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OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


TWO  ON  A  TOWER. 


By  THOMAS  HARDY, 

Author  of  "J  Pah'  of  Blue  Eyes."  "Under  the  Greenwood 
Tree,"  "Far  from  the  Madding  Crowd"  etc.,  etc. 


NEW    YORK: 

A.  L.  BURT,  PUBLISHER. 


PR 


TWO  ON  A  TOWER. 


By  THOMAS  HARDY. 


CHAPTER  I. 


/^N  an  early  winter  afternoon,  clear  but  not  cold, 
^■^^  when  the  vegetable  world  was  a  weird  multitude 
of  skeletons  through  whose  ribs  the  sun  shone  freely, 
a  gleaming  landau  came  to  a  pause  on  the  crest  of  a 
hill  in  Wessex.  The  spot  was  where  the  old  Melchester 
road,  which  the  carriage  had  hitherto  followed,  was 
joined  by  a  drive  that  led  round  into  a  park  at  no  great 
distance  off.  The  footman  alighted,  and  went  to  the 
occupant  of  the  carriage,  a  lady  of  about  six  and 
twenty.  She  was  looking  through  the  opening  afford- 
ed by  a  fieldgate  at  the  undulating  stretch  of  country 
beyond.  In  pursuance  of  some  remark  from  her,  the 
servant  looked  in  the  same  direction. 

The  central  feature  of  the  middle  distance,  as  they 
beheld  it,  was  a  circular  isolated  hill,  of  no  great  eleva- 
tion, which  placed  itself  in  strong  chromatic  contrast 
with  a  wide  acreage  of  surrounding  arable  by  being 
covered  with  fir  trees.  The  trees  were  all  of  one  size 
and  age,  so  that  their  tips  assumed  the  precise  curve 
of  the  hill  they  grew  upon.  This  pine-clad  protuberance 
was  vet  further  marked  out  from  the  general  landscape 


4  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

by  having  on  its  summit  a  tower  in  the  form  of  a 
classical  column,  which,  though  partly  immersed  in  the 
plantation,  rose  above  the  tree-tops  to  a  considerable 
hight.  Upon  this  object  the  eyes  of  lady  and  servant 
were  bent. 

"  Then  there  is  no  road  leading  near  it  ? "  she  asked. 

"Nothing  nearer  than  where  we  are  now,  my  lady." 

"  Oh  !  Then  drive  home."  And  the  carriage  rolled 
on  its  way. 

A  few  days  later,  the  same  lady,  in  the  same  carriage, 
passed  that  spot  again.  Her  eyes,  as  before,  turned  to 
the  distant  tower. 

"  Nobbs,"  she  said,  "could  you  find  your  way  home 
through  that  field,  so  as  to  get  near  the  outskirts  of 
the  plantation  ? " 

The  coachman  regarded  the  field.  "  Well,  my  lady," 
he  observed,  "  in  dry  weather  we  might  drive  in  there, 
and  so  get  across  by  Five-and-Twenty  Acres,  all  being 
well.  But  the  valler  ground  is  so  heavy  after  these 
rains  that — perhaps  it  would  hardly  be  safe  to  try  it 
now." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  she  assented,  indifferently.  "  Re- 
member it,  will  you,  at  a  drier  time."  And  again  the 
carriage  sped  along  the  road,  the  lady's  eyes  resting 
on  the  segmental  hill,  the  blue  trees  that  muffled  it, 
and  the  column  that  formed  its  apex,  till  they  were 
out  of  sight. 

A  long  time  elapsed  before  that  lady  drove  over  the 
hill  again.  It  was  February  ;  the  soil  was  now  un- 
questionably dry,  the  weather  and  scene  being  in 
other  respects  much  as  they  had  been  before.  The 
familiar  shape  of  the  column  seemed  to  remind  her 
that  at  last  an  opportunity  for  a  close  inspection  had 
arrived.  Giving  her  directions,  she  saw  the  gate 
opened,  and  after  a  little  maneuvring  the  carriage 
swayed  slowly  into  the  uneven  field.  Although  the 
pillar  stood  upon  the  hereditary  estate  of  her  husband, 
the  lady  had  never  visited  it,  owing  to  its  insulation 
by  this  well-nigh  impracticable  ground.  The  drive  to 
the  base  of  the  hill  was  tedious  and  jerky,  and  on 
reaching  it  she  alighted,  directing  that  the  carriage 


TJVO  OAT  A    TOWER,  5 

should  be  driven  back  empty  over  the  clods,  to  wait 
for  her  on  the  nearest  edge  of  the  field.  She  then 
ascended  beneath  the  trees  on  foot. 

The  column  now  showed  itself  as  a  much  more  im- 
portant erection  than  it  had  appeared  from  the  road, 
or  the  park,  or  the  windows  of  Welland  House,  her 
residence  hard  b}^  whence  she  had  surveyed  it  hund- 
reds of  times  without  ever  feeling  a  sufficient  interest 
in  its  details  to  investigate  them.  The  column  had 
been  erected  in  the  last  century,  as  a  substantial  me- 
morial of  her  husband's  great-grandfather,  a  respect- 
able officer  who  had  fallen  in  the  American  war,  and 
the  reason  of  her  lack  of  interest  was  partly  owing  to 
her  relations  with  this  husband,  of  which  more  anon. 
It  was  little  more  than  the  sheer  desire  for  something 
to  do — the  chronic  desire  of  her  curiously  lonely  life 
— that  had  brought  her  here  now.  She  was  in  a  mood 
to  welcome  anything  that  would  in  some  measure  dis- 
perse an  almost  killing  ennui.  She  would  have  wel- 
comed even  a  misfortune.  She  had  heard  that  from 
the  summit  of  the  pillar  three  counties  could  be  seen. 
Whatever  pleasurable  effect  was  to  be  derived  from 
looking  into  three  counties  at  the  same  time  she  would 
enjoy  to-day. 

The  fir-shrouded  hill-top  turned  out  to  be  an  old 
Roman  camp, — if  it  were  not  an  old  British  castle,  or 
an  old  Saxon  field  of  Witenagemote, — with  remains  of 
an  outer  and  an  inner  vallum,  a  winding  path  leading 
up  between  their  overlapping  ends  by  an  easy  ascent. 
The  spikelet  from  the  trees  formed  a  soft  carpet  over 
the  route,  and  occasionally  a  brake  of  brambles  barred 
the  interspaces  of  the  trunks.  Soon  she  stood  imme- 
diately at  the  foot  of  the  column. 

It  had  been  built  in  the  Tuscan  order  of  architecture, 
and  was  really  a  tower,  being  hollow,  with  steps  inside. 
The  gloom  and  solitude  which  prevailed  round  the 
base  were  remarkable.  The  sob  of  the  environing 
trees  was  here  expressively  manifest,  and  as,  in  the 
light  breeze,  their  thin,  straight  stems  rocked  in  sec- 
onds, like  inverted  pendulums,  some  boughs  and  twigs 
rubbed   the   pillar's   sides,   or  occasionally  clicked  in 


6  TWO  OAT  A   TOWER. 

catching  each  other.  Below  the  level  of  their  summits 
the  masonry  was  lichen-stained  and  mildewed,  for  the 
sun  never  pierced  that  moaning  cloud  of  blue-black 
vegetation  ;  yards  of  moss  grew  in  the  joints  of  the 
stone-work,  and  here  and  there  shade-loving  insects 
had  engraved  on  the  mortar  patterns  of  no  human 
style  or  meaning,  but  curious  and  suggestive.  Above 
the  trees  the  case  was  different :  the  pillar  rose  into 
the  sky  a  bright  and  cheerful  thing,  unimpeded,  clean, 
and  flushed  with  the  sunlight. 

The  spot  was  seldom  visited  by  a  pedestrian,  ex- 
cept perhaps  in  the  shooting  season.  The  rarity  of 
human  intrusion  was  evidenced  by  the  mazes  of  rab- 
bit-runs, the  feathers  of  shy  birds,  the  exuviae  of 
reptiles  ;  as  also  by  the  fresh  and  uninterrupted  paths 
of  squirrels  down  the  sides  of  trunks,  and  thence  hori- 
zontally away. 

The  circumstance  of  the  plantation  being  an  island 
in  the  midst  of  an  arable  plain  sufficiently  accounted 
for  this  lack  of  visitors.  Few  unaccustomed  to  such 
places  can  be  aware  of  the  insulating  effect  of  plowed 
ground,  when  no  necessity  compels  people  to  traverse 
it.  This  rotund  hill  of  trees  and  brambles,  standing 
in  the  centre  of  a  plowed  field  of  some  ninety  or  a 
hundred  acres,  was  probably  visited  less  frequently 
than  a  rock  would  have  been  visited  in  a  lake  of  equal 
size. 

She  walked  round  the  column  to  the  other  side, 
where  she  found  the  door  through  which  the  interior 
was  reached.  The  paint,  if  it  had  ever  had  any,  was 
all  washed  from  its  face,  and  down  the  decaying  sur- 
face of  the  boards  liquid  rust  from  the  nails  and  hinges 
had  run  in  red  stains.  Over  the  door  was  a  stone 
tablet,  bearing,  apparently,  letters  or  words  ;  but  the 
inscription,  whatever  it  was,  had  been  smoothed  over 
with  a  plaster  of  lichen. 

Here  stood  this  aspiring  piece  of  masonry,  erected 
as  the  most  conspicuous  and  ineffaceable  reminder  of 
a  man  that  could  be  thought  of;  and  yet  the  whole  as- 
pect of  the  memorial  betokened  forgetfulness.  Prob- 
ably not  a  dozen  people  within  the  district   knew  the 


TWO  OiV  A    TOWER.  7 

name  of  the  person  commemorated,  while  perhaps  not 
a  soul  remembered  whether  the  column  was  hollow  or 
solid,  whether  with  or  without  a  tablet  and  a  door.  She 
herself  had  lived  within  a  mile  of  it  for  the  last  five 
years,  and  had  never  come  near  it  till  now. 

She  had  no  intention  of  ascending,  but  finding  that 
the  door  was  not  fastened  she  pushed  it  open  with  her 
foot,  and  entered.  A  scrap  of  writing  paper  lay  with- 
in, and  arrested  her  attention  by  its  freshness.  Some 
human  being,  then,  knew  the  spot,  despite  her  sur- 
mises. But  as  the  paper  had  nothing  on  it,  no  clew 
was  afforded  ;  yet,  feeling  herself  the  proprietor  of  the 
column  and  all  around  it,  her  self-assertiveness  was 
sufficient  to  lead  her  on.  The  staircase  was  lighted  by 
slits  in  the  wall,  and  there  was  no  difficulty  in  reaching 
the  top,  the  steps  being  quite  unworn.  The  trap  door 
giving  on  to  the  roof  was  open,  and  on  looking  through 
it  an  interesting  spectacle  met  her  eye. 

A  youth  was  sitting  on  a  stool  in  the  center  of  the 
lead  flat  which  formed  the  summit  of  the  column,  his 
eye  being  applied  to  the  end  a  large  telescope  that 
stood  before  him  on  a  tripod.  This  sort  of  presence 
was  unexpected,  and  the  lady  started  back  into  the 
shade  of  the  opening.  The  only  effect  produced  upon 
him  by  her  footfall  was  an  impatient  wave  of  the 
hand,  without  removing  his  eye  from  the  instrument, 
as  if  to  forbid  her  or  anybody  interrupting  him. 

Pausing  where  she  stood,  the  lady  examined  the  as- 
pect of  the  individual  who  thus  made  himself  so  com- 
pletely at  home  on  a  building  which  she  deemed  her 
unquestioned  property.  He  was  a  youth  who  miglit 
properly  have  been  characterized  by  a  word  which  the 
judicious  chronicler  would  not  readily  use  in  such  a 
connection,  preferring  to  reserve  it  for  raising  images 
of  the  opposite  sex.  Whether  because  no  deep  felicity 
is  likely  to  arise  from  the  circumstance,  or  from  any 
other  reason,  to  say  in  these  days  that  a  youth  is  beau- 
tiful is  not  to  award  him  that  amount  of  credit  which 
the  expression  would  have  carried  with  it  if  he  had 
lived  in  the  times  of  the  Classical  Dictionary.  So 
much,    indeed,   is    the    reverse    the  case   that   the  as- 


8  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

sertion  creates  an  awkwardness  in  saying  anything 
more  about  him.  The  beautiful  youth  usually  verges 
so  perilously  on  the  incipient  coxcomb,  who  is  about 
to  become  the  Lothario  or  Juan  among  the  neighbor- 
ing maidens,  that,  for  the  due  understanding  of  our 
present  young  man,  his  sublime  innocence  of  any 
thought  concerning  his  own  material  aspect,  or  that  of 
others,  is  more  fervently  asserted,  and  must  be  as 
fervently  believed. 

Such  as  he  was,  there  the  lad  stood.  The  sun 
shone  full  in  his  face,  and  his  hat  was  pushed  aside 
for  convenience,  disclosing  a  curly  head  of  very  light, 
shining  hair,  which  accorded  well  with  the  flush  upon 
his  cheek.  He  had  such  a  complexion  as  that  with 
which  Raphael  enriches  the  countenance  of  the  youth- 
ful son  of  Zacharias, — a  complexion  which,  though 
clear,  is  far  enough  removed  from  virgin  delicacy,  and 
suggests  plenty  of  sun  and  wind  as  its  accompani- 
ment. His  features  were  sufficiently  straight  in  the 
contours  to  correct  the  beholder's  first  impression  that 
the  head  was  the  head  of  a  girl.  Beside  him  stood  a 
little  oak  table,  and  in  front  was  the  telescope. 

His  visitor  had  ample  time  to  make  these  observa- 
tions; and  she  may  have  done  so  all  the  more  keenly 
through  being  herself  of  a  totally  opposite  type.  Her 
hair  was  black  as  midnight,  her  eyes  had  no  less  deep 
a  shade,  and  her  complexion  showed  the  richness  de- 
manded as  a  support  to  these  decided  features.  As  she 
continued  to  look  at  the  pretty  fellow  before  her,  ap- 
parently so  far  abstracted  into  some  speculative  world 
as  scarcely  to  need  a  real  one,  a  warmer  wave  of  her 
warm  temperament  glowed  visibly  through  her,  and  a 
qualified  observer  might  from  this  have  hazarded  a 
guess  that  there  was  Southern  blood  in  her  veins. 

But  even  the  interest  attaching  to  the  youth  could 
not  arrest  her  attention  forever,  and  as  he  made  no 
further  signs  of  moving  his  eye  from  the  instrument, 
she  broke  the  silence  with:  "What  do  you  see  ? — 
something  happening  somewhere  ?" 

"  Yes,  quite  a  catastrophe,"  he  automatically  mur- 
mered,  without  moving  round. 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  9 

"What?" 

"  A  cyclone  in  the  sun." 

The  lady  paused,  as  if  to  consider  the  doubtful 
weight  of  that  event  in  the  scale  of  terrene  life.  "Will 
it  make  any  difference  to  us,  here  ?"  she  asked. 

The  young  man  by  this  time  seemed  to  be  awakened 
to  the  consciousness  that  somebody  unusual  was  talk- 
ing to  him,  and  he  turned. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.  "I  thought  it  was 
my  relative  come  to  look  after  me.  She  often  comes 
about  this  time." 

He  continued  to  look  at  her  and  forget  the  sun,  just 
such  a  reciprocity  of  influence  as  might  have  been  ex- 
pected between  a  dark  lady  and  a  flaxen-haired  youth 
making  itself  apparent  in  the  faces  of  each. 

"  Don't  let  me  interrupt  your  observations,"  said 
she. 

"Ah,  no,"  said  he,  again  applying  his  eye  ;  whereup- 
on his  face  lost  the  animation  which  her  presence  had 
lent  it,  and  became  immutable  as  a  bust,  though  su- 
peradding to  the  serenity  of  repose  the  sensitiveness 
of  life.  The  expression  that  settled  on  him  was  one  of 
awe.  Not  unaptly  might  it  have  been  said  that  he 
was  worshiping  the  sun.  Among  the  various  inten- 
sities of  that  worship  which  have  prevailed  since  the 
first  intelligent  being  saw  the  luminary  decline  west- 
ward, as  the  young  man  now  beheld  it  doing,  his  was 
not  the  weakest.  He  was  engaged  in  what  may  be 
called  a  very  chastened  or  schooled  form  of  that  first 
and  most  natural  of  adorations. 

"But  would  you  like  to  see  it  ?"  he  recommenced. 
"  It  is  an  event  that  is  witnessed  only  about  once  in 
two  years,  though  it  may  occur  often  enough." 

She  assented,  and  looked,  and  saw  a  whirling  mass, 
in  the  centre  of  which  the  fiery  globe  seemed  to  be 
laid  bare  to  its  core.  It  was  a  peep  into  a  maelstrom 
of  fire,  taking  place  where  nobody  had  ever  been  or 
ever  would  be. 

"It  is  the  strangest  thing  I  ever  beheld,"  she  said. 
Then  he  looked  again:  and,  wondering  who  her  com- 
panion could  be,  she  asked:  "Are  you  often  here  ?" 


lO  TIVO  OiV  A    TOWER. 

"  Every  night  when  it  is  not  cloudy,  and  often  in 
the  day." 

"Ah,  night,  of  course.  The  heavens  must  be  beau- 
tiful from  this  point." 

"They  are  rather  more  than  that." 

"  Indeed  !  Have  you  entirely  taken  possession  of 
this  column  ?" 

"  Entirely." 

"  But  it  is  my  column,"  she  said,  with  smiling  asper- 
ity. 

"  Then  you  are  Lady  Constantine,  wife  of  the  ab- 
sent Sir  Blount  Constantine  ?" 

"I  am  Lady  Constantine." 

"Ah,  then  I  agree  that  it  is  yours.  But  will  you 
allow  me  to  rent  it  of  you  for  a  time,  Lady  Con- 
stantine ?" 

"  You  have  taken  it,  whether  I  allow  it  or  not. 
However,  in  the  interests  of  science  it  is  advisable  that 
you  continue  your  tenancy.  Nobody  knows  you  are 
here,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Hardly  anybody." 

He  then  took  her  down  a  few  steps  into  the  interior, 
and  showed  her  some  ingenious  contrivances  for  stow- 
ing articles  away.  "  Nobody  ever  comes  near  the  col- 
umn— or,  as  it's  called  here,  Rings-Hill  Speer,"  he 
continued;  "and  when  I  first  came  up  it  nobody  had 
been  here  for  thirty  or  forty  years.  The  staircase  was 
choked  with  daws'  nests  and  feathers,  but  I  cleared 
them  out." 

"  I  understood  the  column  was  always  kept  locked?" 

"Yes,  it  has  been  so.  When  it  was  built,  in  1782, 
the  key  was  given  to  my  great  grandfather,  to  keep  by 
him  in  case  visitors  should  happen  to  want  it.  He 
lived  just  down  there  where  I  live  now."  He  denoted 
by  a  nod  a  little  dell  lying  immediately  beyond  the 
plowed  land  which  environed  them.  "  He  kept  it  in 
his  bureau,  and  as  the  bureau  descended  to  my  grand- 
father, my  mother,  and  myself,  the  key  descended  with 
it.  After  the  first  thirty  or  forty  years,  nobody  ever 
asked  for  it.  One  day  I  saw  it,  lying  rusty  in  its  niche, 
and,  finding  that  it  belonged  to  this   column,  I  took  it 


TIVO  OjV  A   TOIVER.  H 

and  came  up.  I  staj'^ed  here  till  it  was  dark,  and  the 
stars  came  out,  and  that  night  I  resolved  to  be  an  as- 
tronomer. I  came  back  here  from  school  three  months 
ago,  and  I  mean  to  be  an  astronomer  still."  He  low- 
ered his  voice.  "  I  aim  at  nothing  less  than  the  dig- 
nity and  office  of  Astronomer  Royal,  if  I  live.  Per- 
haps I  shall  not  live." 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  should  suppose  that.  How 
long  are  you  going  to  make  this  your  observatory?" 

"About  a  year — till  I  have  obtained  a  practical 
familiarity  with  the  heavens.  Ah,  if  I  only  had  a  good 
equatorial!" 

"  What  is  that  ?" 

"  A  proper  instrument  for  my  pursuit.  But  time  is 
short,  and  science  is  infinite — how  infinite  only  those 
who  study  astronomy  fully  realize — and  perhaps  I  shall 
be  worn  out  before  I  make  my  mark." 

She  seemed  to  be  greatly  struck  with  the  odd  mix- 
ture in  him  of  scientific  earnestness  and  melancholy 
mistrust  of  all  things  human.  Perhaps  it  was  owing 
to  the  nature  of  his  studies.  "  You  are  often  on  this 
tower  alone  at  night?"  she  said. 

"Yes;  at  this  time  of  the  year  particularly,  and 
while  there  is  no  moon.  I  observe  from  seven  or  eight 
till  about  two  in  the  morning,  with  a  view  to  my  great 
work  on  variable  stars.  But  with  such  a  telescope  as 
this — well,  I  must  put  up  with  it!" 

"Can  you  see  Saturn's  ring  and  Jupiter's  moons?" 

He  said  dryly  that  he  could  manage  to  do  that, 
not  without  some  contempt  for  the  state  of  her 
knowledge. 

"  I  have  never  seen  any  planet  or  star  through  a  tel- 
escope." 

"  If  you  will  come  the  first  clear  night.  Lady  Con- 
stantine,  I  will  show  you  any  number  of  them.  I 
mean,  at  your  express  wish;  not  otherwise. 

"I  should  like  to  come,  and  possibly  may  at  some 
time.  These  stars  that  vary  so  much — sometimes 
evening  stars,  sometimes  morning  stars,  sometimes  in 
the  east,  and  sometimes  in  the  west — have  always  in- 
terested me." 


12  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

**  Ah — now  there  is  a  reason  for  your  not  coming. 
Your  ignorance  of  the  realities  of  astronomy  is  so 
satisfactory  that  I  will  not  disturb  it  except  at  your 
serious  request." 

"But  I  wish  to  be  enlightened." 

"  Let  me  caution  you  against  it." 

"  Is  enlightenment  on  the  subject,  then,  so  terrible?" 

"  Yes,  indeed." 

She  laughingly  declared  that  nothing  could  have  so 
piqued  her  curiosity  as  his  statement,  and  turned  to 
descend.  He  helped  her  down  the  stairs  and  through 
the  briers.  He  would  have  gone  further,  and  crossed 
the  open  corn-land  with  her,  but  she  preferred  to  go 
alone.  He  then  retraced  his  way  to  the  top 
of  the  column,  but,  instead  of  looking  longer  at 
the  sun,  watched  her  diminishing  towards  the  distant 
fence,  behind  which  waited  the  carriage.  When  in  the 
midst  of  the  field,  a  dark  spot  en  an  area  of  brown, 
there  crossed  her  path  a  moving  figure,  whom  it  was 
as  difficult  to  distinguish  from  the  earth  he  trod  as  the 
caterpillar  from  its  leaf,  by  reason  of  the  excellent 
match  between  his  clothes  and  the  clods.  He  was  one 
of  a  dying-out  generation  who  retained  the  principle, 
nearly  unlearnt  now,  that  a  man's  habiliments  should 
be  in  harmony  with  his  environment.  Lady  Constan- 
tine  and  this  figure  halted  beside  each  other 
for  some  minutes;  then  they  went  on  their  several 
ways. 

The  brown  person  was  a  laboring  man  known  to  the 
world  of  Welland  as  Haymoss  (the  "  worn  "  form  of 
the  word  Amos,  to  adopt  the  phrase  of  the  philolo- 
gists). The  reason  of  the  halt  had  been  the  following 
dialogue: 

Lady  Constantine:  "Who  is  that?  Amos  Fry.  I 
think."  ^ 

Haymoss:  "Yes,  my  lady;  a  homely  barley  driller, 
born  under  the  very  eavesdroppings  of  your  ladyship's 
smallest  out-buildings,  in  a  manner  of  speaking, — 
though  your  ladyship  was  neither  born  nor  'tempted 
at  that  time." 


TWO  ON' A    TOWER.  X3 

Lady  C:  "Who  lives  in  the  old  house  behind  the 
plantation?" 

//..•  "  Old  Gammer  Martin,  my  lady,  and  her  grand- 
son." 

Lady  C:  "He  has  neither  father  nor  mother, 
then?" 

H.:  "  Not  a  single  one,  my  lady." 

Lady  C:  "Where  was  he  educated?" 

H.:  "AtWarborne, — a  place  where  they  draw  up 
young  gam'sters'  brains  like  rhubarb  under  a  nine- 
penny  pan,  my  lady,  excusing  my  common  way. 
They  hit  so  much  larning  into  en  that  'a  could  talk 
like  the  day  of  Pentecost;  which  is  a  wonderful  thing 
for  a  simple  boy,  and  his  mother  only  the  plainest 
ciphering  woman  in  the  world.  Warborne  Grammar 
School — that's  where  't  was  'a  went  to.  His  father, 
the  reverent  Pa'son  St.  Cleeve,  made  a  terrible  bruckle 
hit  in  's  marrying,  in  the  sight  of  the  high.  He 
were  the  curate  here,  my  lady,  for  a  length  o'  time." 

Lady  C:  "Oh,  curate.  It  was  before  I  knew  the 
village." 

H.:  "Ay,  long  and  merry  ago!  And  he  married 
Farmer  Martin's  daughter, — Giles  Martin,  a  limberish 
man,  who  used  to  go  rather  bad  upon  his  lags,  if  you 
can  mind.  I  knowed  the  man  well  enough;  who 
should  know  en  better!  The  maid  was  a  poor  wind- 
ling  thing,  and,  though  a  playward  piece  o'  flesh  when 
he  married  her,  'a  socked  and  sighed,  and  went  out 
like  a  snoff.  Well,  when  Pa'son  St.  Cleeve  married 
this  homespun  woman  the  toppermost  folk  wouldn't 
speak  to  his  wife.  Then  he  dropped  a  cuss  or  two, 
and  said  he'd  no  longer  get  his  living  by  curing  their 
twopenny  souls  o'  such  damn  nonsense  as  that  (excus- 
ing my  common  way),  and  he  took  to  farming 
straightway,  and  then  'a  dropped  down  dead  in  a  nor'- 
west  thunder-storm;  it  being  said — hee-hee! — that 
Master  God  was  in  tantrums  wi'  en  for  leaving  his 
service, — hee-hee!  I  give  the  story  as  I  heard  it,  my 
lady,  but  be  dazed  if  I  believe  in  such  trumpery  be- 
havior of  the  fokes  in  the  sky,  nor  anything  else  that's 
said  about  'em.     Well,  Svvithin,  the  boy,  was  sent  tQ 


14  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

the  grammar  school,  as  I  say  for-  but  what  with  hav- 
ing two  stations  of  life  in  his  blood,  he's  good  for 
nothing,  my  lady.  He  mopes  about, — sometimes 
here,  and  sometimes  there;  nobody  troubles  about 
en." 

Lady  Constantine  thanked  her  informant,  and  pro- 
ceeded onward.  To  her,  as  a  woman,  the  most  curi- 
ous feature  in  the  afternoon's  incident  was  that  this 
lad,  of  striking  beauty,  scientific  attainments,  and  cul- 
tured bearing,  should  be  linked,  on  the  maternal  side, 
with  a  local  agricultural  family  through  his  father's 
matrimonial  eccentricity.  A  more  attractive  feature 
in  the  case  was  that  the  same  youth,  so  capable  of 
being  ruined  by  flattery,  blandishment,  pleasure,  even 
gross  prosperity,  should  be  at  present  living  on  in  a 
primitive  Eden  of  unconsciousness,  with  aims  towards 
whose  accomplishment  a  Caliban  shape  would  have 
been  as  effective  as  his  own. 


CHAPTER  11. 

CWITHIN  ST.  CLEEVE  lingered  on  at  his  post, 
until  the  more  sanguine  birds  of  the  plantation, 
already  recovering  from  their  midwinter  consterna- 
tion, piped  a  short  evening  hymn  to  the  vanishing  sun. 
The  landscape  was  gently  concave,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  tower  and  hill,  there  were  no  points  on  which 
late  rays  might  linger;  and  hence  the  dish-shaped 
ninety  acres  of  tilled  land  assumed  a  uniform  hue  of 
shade  quite  suddenly.  The  one  or  two  stars  that  ap- 
peared were  quickly  clouded  over,  and  it  was  soon  ob- 
vious that  there  would  be  no  sweeping  the  heavens 
that  night.  After  tying  a  piece  of  tarpaulin,  which 
had  once  seen  service  on  his  maternal  grandfather's 
farm,  over  all  the  apparatus  around  him,  he  went  down 
the  stairs  in  the  dark,  and  locked  the  door.  With  the 
key  in  his  pocket,  he  descended  through  the  under- 
tvood  on  the  side  of  the  slope  opposite  to  that  trodden 
by  Lady  Constantine,  and   crossed  the  field   in  a  line 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  i5 

mathematically  straight,  and  in  a  manner  that  left  no 
traces,  by  keeping  in  the  same  furrow  all  the  way  on 
tip-toe.  In  a  few  minutes  he  reached  a  little  dell, 
which  occurred  quite  unexpectedly  on  the  other  side 
of  the  field-fence,  and  descended  to  a  venerable 
thatched  house,  whose  enormous  roof,  broken  up  by 
dormers  as  big  as  hay-cocks,  could  be  seen  even  in  the 
twilight.  Over  the  white  walls,  built  of  chalk  in  the 
lump,  outlines  of  creepers  formed  dark  patterns  as  if 
drawn  in  charcoal. 

Inside  the  house  his  maternal  grandmother  was  sit- 
ting by  a  wood  fire.  Before  it  stood  a  pipkin,  in  which 
something  was  evidently  kept  warm.  An  eight-legged 
oak  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room  was  laid  for  a 
meal.  This  woman  of  eighty-three,  in  a  large  mob 
cap,  under  which  she  wore  a  little  cap  to  keep  the 
other  clean,  retained  faculties  but  little  blunted.  She 
sat  looking  into  the  fire,  with  her  hands  upon  her 
knees,  quietly  re-enacting  in  her  brain  certain  of  the 
long  chain  of  episodes,  pathetic,  tragical,  and  humor- 
ous, which  had  constituted  the  parish  history  for  the 
last  sixty  years.  On  Swithin's  entry  she  looked  up  at 
him  in  a  sideway  direction. 

"  You  should  not  have  waited  for  me,  granny,"  he 
said. 

"  'Tis  of  no  account,  my  child.  I've  had  a  nap  while 
sitting  here.  Yes,  I've  had  a  nap,  and  was  up  in  my 
old  country  again,  as  usual.  The  place  was  as  natural 
as  when  I  left  it, — e'en  just  threescore  years  ago.  All 
t'le  folks  and  my  old  aunt  were  there,  as  when  I  was 
a  child, — 'and  when  I  awoke,  behold  it  was  a  dream!  ' 
I  suppose  if  I  were  really  to  set  out  and  go  there, 
hardly  a  soul  would  be  left  alive  to  say  to  me  dog  how 
art!  But  tell  Hannah  to  stir  her  stumps  and  serve 
supper, — though  I'd  fain  do  it  myself,  the  poor  old 
soul  is  getting  so  unhandy!  " 

Hannah  revealed  herself  to  be  much  nimbler  and 
several  years  younger  than  granny,  though  of  this  the 
latter  seemed  to  be  oblivious.  When  the  meal  was 
nearly  over  Mrs.  Martin  produced  the  contents  of  the 
mysterious   vessel   by   the    fire,   saying  that  she    had 


^6  TWO  OAT  J   TOWER. 

caused  it  to  be  brought  in  from  the  back  kitchen,  be- 
cause Hannah  was  hardly  to  be  trusted  with  such 
things,  she  was  becoming  so  childish. 

"  What  is  it,  then  ?  "  said  Swithin.  "  Oh,  one  of 
your  special  puddings."  At  sight  of  it,  however,  he 
added  reproachfully:     "  Now,  granny  !  " 

Instead  of  being  round  it  was  in  shape  an  irregu- 
lar boulder  that  had  been  exposed  to  the  weather  for 
centuries, — a  little  scrap  pared  off  here,  and  a  little 
piece  broken  away  there;  the  general  aim  being,  nev- 
ertheless, to  avoid  destroying  the  symmetry  of  the 
pudding,  while  taking  as  much  as  possible  of  its  sub- 
stance. 

"  The  fact  is,"  added  Swithin,  "  the  pudding  is  half 
gone  !  " 

"  I've  only  sliced  off  the  merest  paring  once  or  twice, 
to  taste  if  it 'was  well  done  !  "  pleaded  granny  Martin, 
with  wounded  feelings.  "  I  said  to  Hannah,  when  she 
took  it  up,  '  Put  it  here  to  keep  it  warm,  as  there's  a 
better  fire  than  in  the  back  kitchen.'  " 

"  Well,  I  am  not  going  to  eat  arjy  of  it  ! "  said 
Swithin,  decisively,  as  he  rose  from  the  table,  pushed 
away  his  chair,  and  went  up-stairs ;  the  other  station 
of  life  that  was  in  his  blood,  and  had  been  brought 
out  by  the  grammar  school,  probably  stimulating  him. 

"  Ah,  the  world  is  an  ungrateful  city  !  'T  was  a  pity 
I  didn't  go  under  ground  and  disappear  from  history 
sixty  years  ago,  instead  of  leaving  my  own  country  to 
come  here  !  "  mourned  old  Mrs.  Martin.  "  But  I  told 
his  mother  how  'twould  be, — marrying  so  many 
notches  above  her.  The  child  was  sure  to  chaw  high, 
like  his  father." 

When  Swithin  had  been  up-stairs  a  minute  or  two,' 
however,  he  altered  his  mind,  and,  coming  down  again, 
ate  all  the  pudding,  with  the  aspect  of  a  person  en- 
gaged in  a  deed  of  great  magnanimity.  The  relish 
with  which  he  did  so  restored  the  unison  that  knew 
no  more  serious  interruptions  than  such  as  this. 

"  Mr.  Torkingham  has  been  here  this  afternoon," 
said  his  grandmother;  "and  he  wants  me  to  let  him 
meet  some  of  the  choir  here  to-night  for   practice. 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  I J 

They  who  live  at  this  end  of  the  parish  won't  go  to  his 
house  to  try  over  the  tunes,  because  'tis  so  far,  they 
say;  and  so  'tis,  poor  men.  So  he's  going  to  see  what 
coming  to  them  will  do.  He  asks  if  you  would  like 
to  join." 

"  I  would  if  I  had  not  so  much  to  do." 

"But  it  is  cloudy  to-night." 

"  Yes;  but  I  have  calculations  without  end,  granny. 
Now,  don't  you  tell  him  I'm  in  the  house,  will  you, 
and  then  he'll  not  ask  for  me." 

"  But  if  he  should,  must  I  then  tell  a  lie,  Lord  for- 
give me  ?" 

"  No,  you  can  say  I'm  up-stairs;  he  must  think  what 
he  likes.  Not  a  word  about  the  astronomy  to  any  of 
them,  whatever  you  do.  I  should  be  called  a  visionary 
and  all  sorts." 

"So  thou  beest,  child.  Why  can't  ye  do  something 
that's  of  use " 

At  the  sound  of  footsteps  Swithin  beat  a  hasty  re- 
treat up-stairs,  where  he  struck  a  light,  and  revealed 
a  table  covered  with  books  and  papers,  while  round 
the  walls-hung  star-maps  and  other  diagrams  illustra- 
tive of  celestial  phenomena.  In  a  corner  stood  a  huge 
pasteboard  tube,  which  a  close  inspection  would  have 
shown  to  be  intended  for  a  telescope.  Swithin  hung 
a  thick  cloth  over  the  window,  in  addition  to  the  cur- 
tains, and  sat  down  to  his  papers.  On  the  ceiling  was 
a  black  stain  of  smoke,  and  under  this  he  placed  his 
lamp,  evidencing  that  the  midnight  oil  was  consumed 
on  that  precise  spot  pretty  often. 

Meanwhile,  there  had  entered  to  the  room  below  a 
personage  who,  to  judge  from  her  voice  and  the  quick 
pit-pat  of  her  feet,  was  a  female,  young  and  blithe. 
Mrs.  Martin  welcomed  her  by  the  title  of  Miss  Tabitha 
Lark,  and  inquired  what  wind  brought  her  that  way; 
to  which  the  visitor  replied  that  she  had  come  for  the 
singing. 

,  "Oh,  you  are  one  of  them?     Sit  ye  down.     And  do 
you  still  go  to  the  house  to  read  to  my  lady?" 

"Yes,  I  go  and  read;  but  as  to  getting  my  lady  to 
hearken,  that's  more  than  a  team  of  six  horses  could 


l8  TWO  ON  A   TOW  BR. 

force  her  to  do."  The  girl  had  a  remarkably  smart 
and  fluent  utterance,  which  was  probably  a  cause,  or 
a  consequence,  of  her  vocation. 

"  'Tis  the  same  story,  then?"  said  grandmother 
Martin, 

"  Yes.  Eaten  out  with  listlessness.  She's  neither 
sick  nor  sorry,  but  how  dull  and  dreary  she  is  only 
herself  can  tell.  When  I  get  there  in  the  morning, 
there  she  is  sitting  up  in  bed,  for  my  lady  don't  care 
to  get  up;  and  then  she  makes  me  bring  this  book 
and  that  book,  till  the  bed  is  heaped  up  with  immense 
volumes,  that  half  bury  her,  making  her  look,  as  she 
leans  upon  her  elbow,  like  the  stoning  of  Stephen  in 
the  church  window.  She  yawns;  then  she  looks  to- 
ward the  tall  glass;  then  she  looks  out  at  the  weather, 
mooning  her  great  black  eyes,  and  fixing  them  on  the 
sky  as  if  they  stuck  there,  while  my  tongue  goes  flick- 
flack  along,  a  hundred  and  fifty  words  a  minute;  then 
she  looks  at  the  clock;  then  she  asks  me  what  I've 
been  reading." 

"Ah,  poor  soul!"  said  granny.  "No  doubt  she  says 
in  the  morning:  '  Would  God  it  were  evening,'  and  in 
the  evening,  '  Would  God  it  were  morning,'  like  the 
disobedient  woman  in  Deuteronomy." 

Swithin,  in  the  room  overhead,  had  suspended  his 
calculations,  for  the  dialogue  interested  him.  There 
now  crunched  heavier  steps  outside  the  door,  and  his 
grandmother  could  be  heard  greeting  sundry  repre- 
sentatives of  the  bass  and  tenor  voice,  who  lent  a 
cheerful  and  well-known  personality  to  the  names  of 
Sammy  Blore,  Nat  Chapman,  Hezekiah  Biles,  and 
Haymoss  Fry  (the  latter  being  the  one  with  whom  the 
reader  has  already  a  distant  acquaintance);  besides 
these  came  small  producers  of  treble,  who  had  not  yet 
developed  into  such  distinctive  units  of  society  as  to 
require  particularizing. 

"  Is  the  good  man  come?"  asked  Nat  Chapman. 
"  No,  I  see  we  are  here  afore  him.  And  how  is  it  with 
aged  women  to-night,  Mrs.  Martin?" 

"Tedious  traipsing  enough  with  this  one,  Nat.  Sit 
ye  down.     Well,  little  Freddy,  you  don't  wish  in  the 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  1 9 

morning   that  'twere   evening,    and   at   evening   that 
'twere  morning  again,  do  you,  Freddy,  trust  ye  for  it?" 

"Now,  who  might  wish  such  a  thing  as  that,  Mrs. 
Martin? — nobody  in  this  parish?"  aslced  Sammy  Blore, 
curiously. 

"  My  lady  is  always  wishing  it,"  spoke  up  Miss  Ta- 
bitha  Lark. 

"  Oh,  she!  Nobody  can  be  answerable  for  the  wishes 
of  that  onnatural  class  of  mankind.  Not  but  that  the 
woman's  heart-strings  is  tried  in  many  aggravating 
ways." 

"Ah,  poor  woman!"  said  gianny.  "The  state  she 
finds  herself  in — neither  maid,  wife,  nor  widow,  as  you 
may  say — is  not  the  primest  form  of  life  for  keeping 
in  good  spirits.  How  long  is  it  since  she  has  heard 
from  Sir  Blount,  Tabitha?" 

"Two  years  and  more,"  said  the  young  woman, 
"  He  went  into  one  side  of  Africa,  as  it  might  be,  three 
St.  Martin's  days  back.  I  can  mind  it,  because  'twas 
my  birthday.  And  he  meant  to  come  out  the  other 
side.     But  he  didn't.     He  has  never  come  out  at  all." 

"  For  all  the  world  like  losing  a  rat  in  a  barley- 
mow,"  said  Hezekiah,  glancing  around  for  corrobora- 
tion. "  He's  lost,  though  you  know  where  he  is." 
His  comrades  nodded.  '  Ay,  my  lady  is  a  walking 
weariness,  that's  plain.  I  seed  her  yawn  just  at  the 
very  moment  when  the  fox  was  halloaed  away  by  Har- 
ton  Copse,  and  the  hounds  ran  him  all  but  past  her 
carriage  wheels.  If  I  were  she,  I'd  see  a  little  life  ; 
though  there's  no  fair,  club-walking,  nor  feast,  to 
speak  of,  till  Easter  week — that's  true." 

"  She  dares  not.  She's  under  solemn  oath  and  testa- 
ment to  do  no  such  thing." 

"  Be  cust  if  I  would  keep  any  such  oath  and  testa- 
ment !  But  here's  the  pa'son,  if  my  ears  don't  deceive 
me. 

There  was  a  noise  of  horse's  hoofs  without,  a  tumb- 
ling against  the  door-scraper,  a  tethering  to  the  win- 
dow-shutter, a  creaking  of  the  door  on  its  hinges,  and 
a  voice  which  Swithin  recognized  as  Mr.  Torkingham's. 
He  greeted  each  of  the  previous  arrivals  by  name,  and 


20  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

Stated  that  he  was  glad  to  see  them  all  so  punctually 
assembled. 

"Ay,  sir,"  said  Haymoss  Fry.  "'Tis  only  my  jints 
that  kept  me  from  assembling  myself  long  ago.  I'd 
assemble  upon  the  top  of  Welland  Steeple,  if  'twern't 
for  my  jints.  I  assure  you,  Pa'son  Tarkengham,  that 
in  the  clitch  'o  my  knees,  where  the  rain  used  tocome 
through  when  I  was  cutting  clots  for  the  new  lawn, 
in  my  old  lady's  time,  'tis  as  if  rats  were  gnawing, 
every  now  and  then.  When  a  feller's  young  he's  too 
small  in  the  brain  to  see  how  soon  a  constitution  can 
be  squandered,  worse  luck  !  " 

"True,"  said  Biles,  to  fill  the  time  while  the  parson 
was  engaged  in  finding  the  psalms.  "A  man's  a  fool 
till  he's  forty.  Often  have  I  thought,  when  hay-pitch- 
ing, and  the  small  of  my  back  seeming  no  stouter  than 
a  hornet's,  *  The  Lord  send  that  I  had  but  the  making 
of  laboring  men  for  a  twelvemonth  !  '  I'd  gi'e  every 
man  jack  two  good  backbones,  even  if  the  alteration 
was  as  wrong  as  forgery." 

"  Four — four  backbones,"  said  Haymoss,  decisively. 

"  Yes,  four,"  threw  in  Sammy  Blore,  with  additional 
weight  of  experience.  "  For  you  want  one  in  front 
for  breast-plowing  and  such  like,  one  on  the  right  side 
for  ground-dressing,  and  one  at  the  left  side  for  turn- 
ing mixens." 

"  Well,  four.  Then  next  I'd  move  every  man's  wynd- 
pipe  a  good  span  away  from  his  glutch-pipe,  so  that 
at  harvest  time  he  could  fetch  breath  in  's  drinking, 
without  being  choked  and  strangled  as  he  is  now. 
Thinks  I,  when  I  feel  the  victuals  going " 

"  Now  we'll  begin,"  interrupted  Mr.  Torkingham, 
his  mind  returning  to  this  world  again  on  concluding 
his  search  for  a  hymn. 

Thereupon  the  racket  of  chair-legs  on  the  floor  sig- 
nalled that  they  were  settling  into  their  seats — a  dis- 
turbance which  Swithin  took  advantage  of  by  going 
on  tiptoe  across  the  floor  above,  and  putting  sheets  of 
paper  over  knot-holes  in  the  boarding  at  points  where 
carpet  was  lacking,  that  his  lamp-light  might  not  shine 
down     The  absence  of  a  ceiling  beneath  rendered  his 


TIVO  ON  A    TOWER.  21 

position  virtually  that  of  one  suspended  in  the  same 
apartment. 

The  parson  announced  the  tune,  and  his  voice  burst 
forth  with  "  Onward,  Christian  soldiers  !  "  in  notes  of 
rigid  cheerfulness.  In  this  start,  however,  he  was 
joined  only  by  the  girls  and  boys,  the  men  furnishing 
but  an  accompaniment  of  ahas  and  ahems.  Mr.  Tork- 
ingham  stopped,  and  Sammy  Blore  spoke  : 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  sir — if  you'll  deal  mild  with  us 
a  moment.  What  with  the  wind  and  walking,  my 
throat's  rough  as  a  garter  ;  and  not  knowing  you  were 
going  to  hit  up  that  minute,  I  hadn't  hawked,  and  I 
don't  think  Hezzy  and  Nat  had,  either — had  ye, 
souls  ? " 

"  I  hadn't  done  it  thoroughly,  that's  true,"  said 
Hezekiah. 

"Quite  right  of  you  then  to  speak,"  said  Mr. 
Torkingham.  "  Don't  mind  explaining  ;  we  are  here 
for  practice.  Now  clear  your  throats,  then,  and  at  it 
again." 

There  was  a  noise  as  of  atmospheric  hoes  and 
scrapers,  and  the  bass  contingent  at  last  got  under  way 
with  a  time  of  its  own.     "  Honwerd,  Christen  sojers  !  " 

"  Ah,  that's  where  we  are  so  defective, — the  pronunci- 
ation," interrupted  the  parson.  "  Now  repeat  after  me  : 
'  On-ward,  Christ-ian,  sol-diers.'  " 

The  choir  repeated  like  an  exaggerative  echo  :  "  On- 
wed,    Chris-ting,  soljaws." 

"  Better  !  "  said  the  parson,  in  the  strenuously 
sanguine  tones  of  a  man  who  got  his  living  by  dis- 
covering a  bright  side  in  things  where  it  was  not  very 
perceptible  to  other-  people.  "  But  it  should  not  be 
given  with  quite  so  extreme  an  accent ;  or  we  may  be 
called  affected  by  other  parishes.  And  Nathaniel 
Chapman,  there's  a  jauntiness  in  your  manner  of 
singing  which  is  not  quite  becoming.  Why  don't  you 
sing  more  earnestly  ?  " 

"  My  conscience  won't  let  me,  sir,"  said  Nat.  "  They 
say  every  man  for  himself  ;  but,  thank  God,  I'm  not  so 
mean  as  to  lessen  old  fokes'  chances  by  singing  earnest 
in  the  prime  o'  life." 


22  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

"  It 's  bad  reasoning,  Nat,  I  fear.  Now,  perhaps  we 
had  better  sol-fa  the  tune.     Eyes  on  your  books,  please. 

"  Sol-sol !  fa-fa  !  mi  —" 

"  I  can't  sing  like  that,  not  I  ! "  said  Sammy  Blore, 
with  condemnatory  astonishment.  "  I  can  sing  genu- 
ine music,  like  F  and  G  ;  but  not  anything  so  much 
out  of  the  order  of  nature  as  that." 

"Perhaps  you've  brought  the  wrong  book,  sir?" 
chimed  in  Haymoss,  kindly.  "  I've  knowed  music 
early  in  life,  and  late, — in  short,  ever  since  Luke  Sneap 
broke  his  new  fiddle-bow  in  the  wedding  psalm,  when 
Pa'son  Wilton  brought  home  his  bride  (you  can  mind 
the  time,  Sammy  ? — at  '  His  wife,  like  a  fair  fertile  vine, 
her  lovely  fruit  shall  bring,'  when  the  young  woman 
turned  as  red  as  a  rose,  not  knowing  't  was  coming). 
I've  knowed  music  ever  since  then,  I  say,  sir,  and  never 
heard  the  like  o'  that.  Every  martel  note  had  his 
name  of  A,  B,  C,  at  that  time  and  since." 

"  Yes — yes,  but  this  is  a  more  recent  system." 

"  Still,  you  can't  alter  a  old-established  note  that's  A 
or  B  by  nater,"  rejoined  Haymoss,  with  yet  deeper 
conviction  that  Mr.  Torkingham  was  getting  off  his 
head.  "  Now  sound  A,  neighbor  Sammy,  and  let's 
have  a  slap  at  Christen  sojers  again." 

Sammy  produced  a  private  tuning-fork,  black  and 
grimy,  which,  being  about  seventy  years  of  age,  and 
wrought  before  pianoforte  builders  had  sent  up  the 
pitch  to  make  their  instruments  brilliant,  was  nearly  a 
note  flatter  than  the  parson's.  While  an  argument  as 
to  the  true  pitch  was  in  progress,  there  came  a  knock- 
ing without. 

"Somebody's  at  the  door  !  "  said  a  little  treble  girl. 

"  Thought  I  heard  a  knock  before  !  "  said  the  relieved 
choir. 

The  latch  was  lifted,  and  a  man  asked  from  the 
darkness  :  "  Is  Mr.  Torkingham  here  ? " 

"Yes,  Mills.  What  do  you  want?"  It  was  the 
parson's  man. 

"  Oh,  if  you  please,"  says  Mills,  showing  an  advanced 
margin  of  himself  round  the  door,  "  Lady  Constantine 
wants  to  see  you  very  particular,  sir,  and  could  you 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  23 

call  on  her  after  dinner,  if  you  be  n't  engaged  with 
fokes  ?  She's  just  had  a  letter, — so  they  say, — and  it's 
about  that,  I  believe." 

Finding,  on  looking  at  his  watch,  that  it  was  neces- 
sary to  start  at  once  if  he  meant  to  see  her  that  night, 
the  parson  cut  short  the  practicing,  and,  naming  an- 
other night  for  meeting,  he  withdrew.  All  the  singers 
assisted  him  on  to  his  cob,  and  watched  him  till  he 
disappeared  over  the  edge  of  the  glen. 


CHAPTER  III. 

lyrR.  TORKINGHAM  trotted  briskly  onward  to 
''"  his  house,  a  distance  of  about  a  mile,  each  cottage, 
as  it  revealed  its  half-buried  position  by  its  single 
light,  appearing  like  a  one-eyed  night  creature  watch- 
ing him  from  an  ambush.  Leaving  his  horse  at  the 
parsonage,  he  performed  the  remainder  of  the  journey 
on  foot,  crossing  the  park  towards  Welland  House  by 
a  stile  and  path,  till  he  struck  into  the  drive  near  the 
north  door  of  the  mansion.  This  drive,  it  may  be  re- 
marked, was  also  the  common  highway  to  the  lower 
village,  and  hence  Lady  Constantine's  residence  and 
park,  as  is  often  the  case  with  old-fashioned  manors, 
possessed  none  of  the  exclusiveness  often  found  in 
newer  aristocratic  settlements.  The  parishioners 
looked  upon  the  park  avenue  as  their  natural  thorough- 
fare, particularly  for  christenings,  weddings,  and 
funerals,  which  passed  the  squire's  mansion  with  due 
considerations  as  to  the  scenic  effect  of  the  same  from 
the  minor  windows.  Hence  the  house  of  Constantine, 
when  going  out  from  its  breakfast,  had  been  continu- 
ally crossed  on  the  doorstep,  for  the  last  two  hundred 
years,  by  the  houses  of  Hodge  and  Giles  in  full  cry 
for  dinner.  At  present  the  collisions  were  but  too  in- 
frequent, for  though  the  villagers  passed  the  north 
front  door  as  regularly  as  ever,  they  seldom  met  a 
Constantine.  Only  one  was  there  to  be  met,  and  she 
had  no  zest  for  outings  befoie  noon. 


24  TWO  OjV  A    TOWER. 

The  long,  low  front  of  the  Great  House,  as  it  was 
called  by  the  parishioners,  stretching  from  end  to  end 
of  the  terrace,  was  in  darkness  as  the  vicar  slackened 
his  pace  before  it,- and  only  the  distant  fall  of  water 
disturbed  the  stillness  of  the  manorial  precincts. 

On  gaining  admittance  he  found  Lady  Constantine 
waiting  to  receive  him.  She  wore  a  heavy  dress  of 
velvet  and  lace,  and,  being  the  only  person  in  the  spa- 
cious apartment,  she  looked  small  and  isolated.  In 
her  left  hand  she  held  a  letter  and  a  couple  of  at-home 
cards.  The  soft,  dark  eyes  which  she  raised  to  him  as 
he  entered — large,  and  melancholy  by  circumstance 
far  more  than  by  quality — were  the  natural  indices  of 
a  warm  and  affectionate,  perhaps  slightly  voluptuous 
temperament,  languishing  for  want  of  something  to 
do,  cherish,  or  suffer  for. 

Mr.  Torkingham  seated  himself.  His  boots,  which 
had  seemed  elegant  in  the  farm-house,  appeared  rather 
clumsy  here,  and  his  coat,  that  was  a  model  of  tailor- 
ing when  he  stood  amid  the  choir,  now  exhibited  de- 
cidedly strained  relations  with  his  limbs.  Three  years 
had  passed  since  his  induction  to  the  living  of  Wel- 
land,  but  he  had  never  as  yet  found  means  to  estab- 
lish that  relationship  with  Lady  Constantine  which 
usually  grows  up,  in  the  course  of  time,  between  par- 
sonage and  manor-house, — unless,  indeed,  either  side 
should  surprise  the  other  by  showing  a  weakness  for 
awkward  modern  ideas  on  land  ownership  or  church 
formulas,  respectively,  which  had  not  been  the  case 
here.  The  present  meeting,  however,  seemed  likely  to 
initiate  such  a  relationship. 

There  was  an  appearance  of  confidence  on  Lady 
Constantine's  face  ;  she  said  she  was  so  very  glad 
tha  he  had  come  ;  and,  looking  down  at  the  letter  in 
her  hand,  she  was  on  the  point  of  pulling  it  from  its 
envelope,  but  she  did  not.  After  a  moment  she  went 
on  more  quickly  :  "  I  wanted  your  advice,  or  rather 
your  opinion,  on  a  serious  matter, — on  a  point  of  con- 
science." Saying  which,  she  laid  down  the  letter  and 
looked  at  the  cards. 

It  might  have  been  apparent  to  a  more  penetrating 


T^O  ON  A    TO  WER.  2$ 

eye  than  the  vicar's  that  Lady  Constantine,  either 
from  timidity,  misgiving,  or  reconviction,  had  swerved 
from  her  intended  communication,  or  perhaps  decided 
to  begin  at  the  other  end. 

The  parson,  who  had  been  expecting  a  question  on 
some  local  business  or  intelligence,  at  the  tenor  of  her 
words  altered  his  face  to  the  higher  banch  of  his  pro- 
fession. 

"  I  hope  I  may  find  myself  of  service,  on  that  or  any 
other  question,"  he  said,  gently. 

"  I  hope  so.  You  might  possibly  be  aware,  Mr. 
Torkingham,  that  my  husband,  Sir  Blount  Constan- 
tine, was,  not  to  mince  matters,  a  mistaken — somewhat 
jealous  man.  Yet  you  may  hardly  have  discerned  it 
in  the  short  time  you  knew  him." 

"  I  had  some  little  knowledge  of  Sir  Blount's  charac- 
ter in  that  respect." 

"  Well,  on  this  account  my  married  life  with  him 
was  not  of  the  most  comfortable  kind."  (Lady  Con- 
stantine's  voice  dropped  to  a  more  pathetic  note.)  "I 
am  sure  I  gave  him  no  cause  for  suspicion;  though 
had  I  known  his  disposition  sooner  I  should  hardly 
have  dared  to  marry  him.  But  his  jealousy  and  doubt 
of  me  were  not  so  strong  as  to  divert  him  from  a 
purpose  of  his — a  mania  for  African  lion-hunting, 
which  he  dignified  by  calling  it  a  scheme  of  geograph- 
cal  discovery  ;  for  he  was  inordinately  anxious  to 
make  a  name  for  himself  in  that  field.  It  was  the  one 
passion  that  was  stronger  than  his  mistrust  of  me. 
Before  going  away  he  sat  down  with  me  in  this  room 
and  read  me  a  lecture,  which  resulted  in  a  very  bad 
offer  on  my  part.  When  I  tell  it  to  you,  you  will  find 
that  it  provides  a  key  to  all  that  is  unusual  in  my  life 
here.  He  bade  me  consider  what  my  position  would 
be  when  he  was  gone  ;  hoped  that  I  should  remember 
what  was  due  to  him — that  I  would  not  behave  towards 
other  men  so  as  to  bring  the  name  of  Constantine  into 
suspicion  ;  and  charged  me  to  avoid  levity  of  conduct 
in  attending  any  ball,  rout,  or  dinner  to  which  I  might 
be  invited.  I,  in  some  indignation  at  his  low  opinion 
of  me,  responded  perhaps  too  spiritedly.     I  volunteer 


26  TtVO  ON  A   TOWER. 

ed,  there  and  then,  to  live  like  a  cloistered  nun  during 
his  absence;  to  go  into  no  society  whatever — not  even 
to  a  neighbor's  dinner  party  ;  and  demanded  bitterly 
if  that  would  satisfy  him.  He  said  yes,  instantly  held 
me  to  my  w'ord,  and  gave  me  no  loop-hole  for  retract- 
ing it.  The  inevitable  fruits  of  the  precipitancy  have 
resulted  to  me  ;  my  life  has  become  a  burden.  I  get 
such  invitations  as  these  "  (holding  up  the  cards)  "but 
I  so  invariably  refuse  them  that  they  are  getting  very 
rare.  ,  .  .1  ask  you,  Can  I  honestly  break  that  promise 
to  my  husband  T' 

Mr.  Torkingham  seemed  embarrassed.  *'  If  you 
promised  Sir  Blount  Constantine  to  live  in  solitude  till 
he  comes  back,  you  are,  it  seems  to  me,  bound  by  that 
promise.  I  fear  that  the  wish  to  be  released  from  your 
engagement  is  to  some  extent  a  reason  why  it  should 
be  kept.  But  your  own  conscience  would  surely  be 
the  best  guide.  Lady  Constantine  !" 

"  My  conscience  is  disordered  with  the  sense  of  its 
responsibilities,"  she  continued,  with  a  sigh.  "  Yet  it 
certainly  does  sometimes  say  to  me  that — that  I  ought 
to  keep  my  word.  Very  well  ;  I  must  go  on  as  I  am 
going,  I  suppose." 

"  If  you  respect  a  vow,  I  think  you  must  respect 
your  own,"  said  the  parson,  acquiring  some  further 
firmness.  "Had  it  been  wrung  from  you  by  compul- 
sion, moral  or  physical,  it  would  have  been  open  to 
you  to  break  it.  But  as  you  proposed  a  vow  w^hen 
your  husband  only  required  a  good  intention,  I  think 
you  ought  to  adhere  to  it;  or  what  is  the  pride  worth 
that  led  you  to  offer  it  ?" 

"Very  well,"  she  said,  with  resignation.  "But  it 
was  quite  a  work  of  supererogation  on  my  part." 

"  That  you  proposed  it  in  a  supererogatory  spirit 
does  not  lessen  you  obligation,  having  once  put  your- 
self under  that  obligation.  St.  Paul,  in  his  Epistle  to 
the  Hebrews,  says  :  '  An  oath  for  confirmation  is  an 
end  of  all  striie.'  And  you  will  readily  recall  the 
words  of  Ecclesiastes  :  '  Pay  that  which  thou  hast 
vowed.  Better  is  it  that  thou  shouldest  not  vow  than 
that  thou  shouldst  vow  and  not  pay.'     Why  not  write 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER,  2 J 

to  Sir  Blount,  tell  him  the  inconvenience  of  such  a 
bond,  and  ask  him  to  release  you  ?" 

"  No  ;  never  will  I.  The  expression  of  such  a  desire 
would,  in  his  mind,  be  a  sufficient  reason  for  disallow- 
ing it.     I'll  keep  my  word." 

Mr.  Torkingham  rose  to  leave.  After  she  had  held 
out  her  hand  to  him,  when  he  had  crossed  the  room, 
and  was  within  two  steps  of  the  door,  she  said,  "  Mr. 
Torkingham."  He  stopped.  "  What  I  have  told  you 
is  not  what  I  sent  for  you  to  tell  you." 

Mr.  Torkingham  walked  back  to  her  side.  "  What 
is  it  then?"  he  asked,  with  grave  surprise. 

"  It  is  a  true  revelation,  as  far  as  it  goes;  but  there 
is  something  more.  I  have  received  this  letter,  and  I 
wanted  to  say — something." 

"Then  say  it  now,  my  dear  lady." 

"No,"  she  answered,  with  a  look  of  distress.  "I 
cannot  sheak  of  it  now  !  Some  other  time.  Don't 
stay.  Please  consider  this  conversation  as  private. 
Good  night." 


I 


CHAPTER    IV. 

T  was  a  bright  starlight  night,  a  week  or  ten  days  later. 
There  had  been  several  such  nights  since  the 
occasion  of  Lady  Constantine's  promise  to  Swithin  St. 
Cleeve  to  come  and  study  astronomical  phenonema 
on  the  Rings-Hill  column;  but  she  had  not  gone  there. 
This  evening  she  sat  at  a  window,  the  blind  of  which 
had  not  been  drawn  down.  Her  elbow  rested  on  a 
little  table,  and  her  cheek  on  her  hand.  Her  eyes  were 
attracted  by  the  brightness  of  the  planet  Jupiter,  as 
he  rode  in  the  eliptic  opposite,  beaming  down  upon 
her  as  if  desirous  of  notice. 

Beneath  the  planet  could  be  still  discerned  the  dark 
edges  of  the  park  landscape  against  the  sky.  As  one 
of  its  features,  though  nearly  screened  by  the  trees 
which  had  been  planted  to  shut  out  the  fallow  tracts  of 
the  estate,  rose  the  upper  part  of  the  column. 
It  was  hardly  visible   now,  even    if  visible  at  all  ;  yet 


a8  TWO  ON^  A    TOWER. 

Lady  Constantine  knew  from  daytime  experience  its 
exact  bearing  from  the  window  at  which  she  leaned. 
The  knowledge  that  there  it  still  was,  despite  its  rapid 
envelopement  by  the  shades,  led  her  lonely  mind  to 
her  late  meeting  on  its  summit  with  the  young  astron- 
omer, and  to  her  promise  to  honor  him  with  a  visit 
for  learning  some  secrets  about  the  scintillating  bodies 
overhead.  The  curious  juxtaposition  of  youthful  ar- 
dor and  old  despair  that  she  had  found  in  the  lad 
would  have  made  him  interesting  to  a  woman  of  per- 
ception, apart  from  his  fair  hair  and  early-Christian 
face.  But  such  is  the  hightening  touch  of  memory 
that  his  beauty  was  probably  richer  in  her  imagination 
than  in  the  real.  It  was  a  moot  point  to  consider 
whether  the  temptations  that  would  be  brought  to  bear 
upon  him  in  his  course  would  exceed  the  statute 
power  of  his  nature  to  resist.  Had  he  been  a  rich 
youth,  he  would  hav^e  seemed  one  to  tremble  for.  In 
spite  of  his  attractive  ambitions  and  gentlemanly  bear- 
ing, she  thought  it  would  possibly  be  better  for  him  if 
he  never  became  known  outside  his  lonely  tower, — for- 
getting that  he  had  rece'-^ed  such  intellectual  enlarg- 
ment  as  would  make  his  continuance  in  Welland  seem, 
in  his  own  eye,  a  slight  upon  his  father's  branch  of  his 
family,  the  social  standing  of  which  had  been,  only  a 
few  years  earlier,  but  little  removed  from  her  own. 

Suddenly  she  flung  her  cloak  about  her  and  went 
out  on  the  terrace.  An  altogether  new  idea  plainly 
possessed  her.  She  went  down  the  steps  to  the  lower 
lawn,  through  the  door  to  the  open  park,  and  there 
stood  still.  The  tower  was  discernible.  As  the  words 
in  which  a  thought  is  expressed  develop  a  further 
thought,  so  did  the  fact  of  her  having  got  so  far,  influ- 
ence her  to  go  farther 

A  person  who  had  casually  observed  her  gait  would 
have  thought  it  irregular;  the  lessenings  and  increas- 
ings  of  speed  with  which  she  proceeded  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  pillar  could  be  accounted  for  only  by  a 
motive  much  more  disturbing  than  an  intention  to 
look  through  an  astronomical  telescope.  Thus  she 
went  on,  till,  leaving  the  park,  she  crossed   the  turn- 


TWO  ON  A    TO  WEI?.  29 

pike  road,  and  entered  the  large  field,  in  the  middle 
of  which  the  fir-clad  hill  stood  like  Mont  St.  Michael 
in  its  bay. 

The  stars  were  so  bright  as  distinctly  to  show  her 
the  place,  and  now  she  could  see  a  faint  light  at  the 
top  of  the  column,  which  rose  like  a  shadowy  finger 
pointing  to  the  upper  constellations.  There  was  no 
wind,  in  a  human  point  of  view;  but  a  steady  stertor- 
ous breathing  from  the  fir-trees  showed  that,  now  as  al- 
ways, there  was  movement  in  apparent  stagnation. 
Nothing  but  an  absolute  vacuum  could  paralyze  their 
utterance. 

The  door  of  the  tower  was  shut.  It  was  something 
more  than  freakishness  that  is  engendered  by  a  sick- 
ening monotony  which  had  led  Lady  Constantine  thus 
far,  and  hence  she  made  no  ado  about  admitting  her- 
self. Three  years  ago,  when  her  every  action  was  a 
thing  of  propriety,  she  had  known  no  possible  purpose 
which  could  have  led  her  abroad  in  a  manner  such  as 
this. 

She  ascended  the  tower  noiselessly.  On  raising  her 
head  above  the  hatchway  she  beheld  Swithin  bending 
over  a  scroll  of  paper  which  lay  on  the  little  table  be- 
side him.  The  small  lantern  that  illuminated  it  show- 
ed also  that  he  was  warmly  wrapped  up  in  a  coat  and 
thick  cap,  behind  him  standing  the  telescope  on  its 
frame.  What  was  he  doing  ?  She  looked  over  his 
shoulder  upon  the  paper,  and  saw  figures  and  signs. 
When  he  jotted  down  something,  he  went  to  the  teles- 
cope again. 

"  What  are  you  doing  to-night  ? "  she  said,  in  a  low 
voice. 

Swithin  started,  and  turned.  The  faint  lamp-light 
was  sufficient  to  reveal  her  face  to  him. 

"Tedious  work.  Lady  Constantine,"  he  answered, 
Without  betraying  much  surprise.  "  Doing  my  best  to 
Watch   phenomenal  stars,  as  I  may  call  them." 

"  You  said  you  would  show  me  the  heavens,  if  I 
could  come  on  a  starlight  night.     I  have  come." 

Swithin,  as  a  preliminary,  swept  round  the  telescope 
to  Jupiter,  and  exhibited  to  her  the  glory  of  that  orb. 


30  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

Then  he  directed  the  instrument  to  the  less  bright 
shape  of  Saturn.  "  Here,"  he  said,  warming  up  to  the 
subject,  "  we  see  a  world  which  to  my  mind  is  by  far 
the  most  wonderful  in  the  solar  system.  Think  of 
streams  of  satellites  or  meteors  racing  round  and 
round  the  planet  like  a  fly-wheel,  so  close  together  as 
to  seem  solid  matter!  "  He  entered  further  and  fur- 
ther into  the  subject,  his  ideas  gathering  momentum 
as  he  went  on,  like  his  pet  heavenly  bodies. 

When  this  yellow-haired  laddie  paused  for  breath, 
she  said,  in  tones  very  different  from  his  own:  "  I 
ought  now  to  tell  you  that,  though  I  am  interested  in 
the  stars,  they  were  not  what  I  came  to  see  you  about. 
They  were  only  an  excuse  for  coming.  I  first  thought 
of  disclosing  the  matter  to  Mr.  Torkingham;  but  I 
altered  my  mind,  and  decided  on  you." 

She  spoke  in  so  low  a  voice  that  he  might  not  have 
heard  her.  At  all  events,  abstracted  by  his  grand 
theme,  he  did  not  heed  her.     He  continued: — 

"  Well,  we  will  get  outside  the  solar  system  alto- 
gether— leave  the  whole  group  of  sun,  primary  and 
secondary  planets  quite  behind  us  in  our  flight,  as  a 
bird  might  leave  its  bush  and  sweep  into  the  whole 
forest.  Now  what  do  you  see,  Lady  Constantine? " 
He  leveled  the  achromatic  at  Sirius. 

She  said  she  saw  a  bright  star,  though  it  only  seemed 
a  point  of  light  now  as  before. 

"  That's  because  it  is  so  distant  that  no  magnifying 
will  bring  its  size  up  to  zero.  Though  called  a  fixed 
star,  it  is,  like  all  fixed  stars,  moving  with  inconceiv- 
able velocity;  but  no  magnifying  will  show  that  veloci- 
ty as  anything  but  rest. 

And  thus  they  talked  on  about  Sirius,  and  then  about 
other  stars 

*     *     *     in  the  scrowl 
Of  all  those  beasts,  and  fish,  and  fowl, 
With  which,  like  Indian  plantations, 
The  learned  stock  the  constellations, 

till  he  asked  her  how  many  stars  she  thought  were 
visible  to  them  at  that  moment. 


TWO  OiV  A   TOWER.  3I 

She  looked  around  over  the  magnificent  stretch  of 
sky  that  their  high  position  unfolded.  "  Oh,  thousands 
— hundreds  of  thousands,"  she  said,  absently. 

"No.  There  are  only  about  three  thousand.  Now, 
how  many  do  you  think  are  brought  within  sight  by 
the  help  of  a  powerful  telescope?" 

"  I  won't  guess." 

"Twenty  millions.  So  that,  whatever  the  stars 
were  made  for,  they  were  not  made  to  please  our  eyes 
It  is  just  the  same  in  everything;  nothing  is  made  foi 
man." 

"  Is  it  that  notion  which  makes  you  so  sad  for  your 
age?"  she  asked,  with  almost  maternal  solicitude.  "  I 
think  astronomy  is  a  bad  study  for  you.  It  makes  you 
feel  human  insignificance  too  plainly." 

"  Perhaps  it  does.  However,"  he  added,  more 
cheerfully,  "  though  I  feel  the  study  to  be  one  almost 
tragic  in  its  quality,  I  hope  to  be  the  new  Copernicus. 
What  he  was  to  the  solar  system  I  aim  to  be  to  the 
systems  beyond.  ' 

Then,  by  means  of  the  instrument  at  hand,  they 
traveled  together  from  the  earth  to  Uranus  and  the 
mysterious  outskirts  of  the  solar  system  ;  from  the 
solar  system  to  "61  Cygni,"  the  nearest  fixed  star  in 
the  northern  sky;  from  "61  Cygni"  to  remoter  stars  ; 
thence  to  the  remotest  visible,  till  the  ghastly  chasm 
which  they  had  bridged  by  a  fragile  line  of  sight  was 
realized  by  Lady  Constantine. 

"We  are  now  traversing  distances  beside  which  the 
immense  line  stretching  from  the  earth  to  the  sun  is 
but  an  invisible  point,"  said  the  youth.  "When,  just 
now,  we  had  reached  a  planet  whose  remoteness  is  a 
hundred  times  the  remoteness  of  the  sun  from  the  earth, 
we  were  only  a  two  thousandth  part  of  the  jour- 
ney to  the  spot  at  which  we  have  optically  aimed 
now." 

"Oh,  pray  don't;  it  overpowers  me!"  she  replied, 
not  without  seriousness.  "  It  makes  me  feel  that  it  is 
not  worth  while  to  live;  it  quite  annihilates  me." 

"If  it  annihilates  your  ladvship  to  roam  over  these 
yawning  spaces  just  once,   think   how  it  must  annihi- 


32r  TIVO  ON  A    TOWER. 

late  me  to  be,  as  it  were,  in  constant  suspension  amid 
them  night  after  night." 

"Yes.  It  was  not  really  this  subject  that  I  came  to 
see  you  upon,  Mr.  St.  Cleeve,"  she  began  a  second 
time.     "  It  was  a  personal  matter." 

"  I  am  listening,  Lady  Constantine." 

'■'■  I  will  tell  it  you.  Yet  no — not  this  moment.  Let 
us  finish  this  grand  subject  first;  it  dwarfs  mine." 
It  would  have  been  difficult  to  judge  from  her  accents 
whether  she  were  afraid  to  broach  her  own  matter,  or 
really  interested  in  his.  Or  a  certain  youthful  pride 
that  he  evidenced  at  being  the  elucidator  of  such  a 
large  theme,  and  at  having  drawn  her  there  to  hear 
and  observe  it,  may  have  inclined  her  to  indulge  him 
for  kindness'  sake. 

Thereupon  he  took  exception  to  her  use  of  the  word 
"  grand"  as  descriptive  of  the  actual  universe.  "The 
imaginary  picture  of  the  sky  as  the  concavity  of  a 
dome  whose  base  extends  from  horizon  to  horizon  of 
our  earth  is  grand,  simply  grand,  and  I  wish  I  had 
never  got  beyond'  looking  at  it  in  that  way.  But  the 
actual  sky  is  a  horror." 

"  A  new  view  of  our  old  friends,  the  stars,"  she  said, 
smiling  up  at  them. 

"  But  such  an  obviously  true  one?  You  would  hard- 
ly think,  at  first,  that  horrid  monsters  lie  up  there," 
said  the  young  man,  "  waiting  to  be  discovered  by  any 
moderately  penetrating  mind — monsters  to  which 
those  of  the  oceans  bear  no  sort  of  comparison." 

"  What  monsters  may  they  be  ?  " 

"The  monsters  called  Immensities.  Until  a  person 
has  thought  out  the  stars  and  their  interspaces,  he  has 
hardly  learnt  that  there  are  things  much  more  terrible 
than  monsters  of  shape,  namely,  monsters  of  magni- 
tude without  known/shape.  Such  monsters  are  the 
voids  and  waste  places  of  the  sky.  Look,  for  instance, 
at  those  pieces  of  darkness  in  the  Milky  Way,"  he 
went  on,  pointing  with  his  finger  to  where  the  galaxy 
stretched  across  over  their  heads  with  the  luminous- 
ness  of  a  frosted  web.  "  You  see  that  dark  opening  in 
it  near  the  Swan  ?     There  is  a  still  more  remarkable 


TU-Q  OX  J    TOIVEX.  ^^ 

one  south  of  the  equator,  called  the  Coal  Sack,  as  a 
sort  of  nickname  that  has  a  farcical  force  from  its  very 
inadequacy.  In  these  our  sight  plunges  qu'te  beyond 
any  twinkler  we  have  yet  visited.  Those  are  deep 
wells  for  the  human  mind  to  let  itself  down  into,  leave 
alone  the  human  body  !  and  think  of  the  side  caverns 
and  secondary  abysses  to  right  and  left  as  you  pass 
on." 

Lady  Constantine  was  seriously  impressed. 

He  tried  to  give  her  yet  another  idea  of  the  size  ot 
the  universe;  never  was  there  a  more  ardent  endeavor 
to  bring  down  the  immeasurable  to  human  compre- 
hension !  By  figures  of  speech  and  apt  comparisons 
he  took  her  mind  into  leading-strings,  compelling  her 
to  follow  him  into  wildernesses  of  which  she  had  never 
in  her  life  even  realized  the  existence.  "There  is  a 
size  at  which  grandeur  begins  ;  further  on  there  is  a 
size  at  which  solemnity  begins  ;  further  on,  a  size  at 
which  awfulness  begins  ;  further  on,  a  size  at  which 
ghastliness  begins.  That  size  faintly  approaches  the 
size  of  the  stellar  universe.  So  am  I  not  right  in  say- 
ing that  those  minds  wlio  exert  their  imaginative 
powers  to  bury  themselves  in  the  depths  of  that  uni- 
verse merely  strain  their  faculties  to  gain  a  new  hor- 
ror?" 

Standing,  as  she  stood,  in  the  presence  of  the  stellar 
universe,  under  the  very  eyes  of  the  constellations, 
Lady  Constantine  apprehended  something  of  the  ar- 
gument. 

"And  to  add  a  new  weirdness  to  what  the  sky  pos- 
sesses in  its  size  and  formlessness,  there  is  added  the 
quality  of  decay.  For  all  the  wonder  of  these  ever- 
lasting stars,  eternal  spheres,  and  what  not,  they  are 
not  everlasting,  they  are  not  eternal;  they  burn  out 
like  candles.  You  see  that  dying  one  in  the  body  of 
the  Great  Bear?  Two  centuries  ago  it  was  as  bright 
as  the  others.  The  senses  may  become  terrified  by 
plunging  among  them  as  they  are,  but  there  is  a  piti- 
fulness  even  in  their  glory.  Imagine  them  all  exting- 
uished, and  your  mind  feeling  its  way  through  a 
heaven  of  total  darkness,  occasionally  striking-  against 

3 


34  TWO  ON  A    TO  WE  J?. 

the  black,  invisible  cinders  of  those  stars.  ...  If  you 
are  cheerful,  and  wish  to  remain  so,  leave  the  study  of 
astronomy  alone.  Of  all  the  sciences,  it  alone  deserves 
the  character  of  the  terrible." 

"I  am  not  altogether  cheerful." 

"  Then  if,  on  the  other  hand,  you  are  restless,  wor- 
ried by  your  worldly  affairs,  and  anxious  about  the  fu- 
ture, study  astronomy  at  once.  Your  troubles  will  be 
reduced  amazingly.  But  your  study  will  reduce  them 
in  a  singular  way,  by  reducing  the  importance  of 
everything.  So  that  the  science  is  still  terrible,  even 
as  a  panacea.  It  is  quite  impossible  to  think  at  all 
adequately  of  the  sky,  of  what  the  sky  substantially 
is,  without  feeling  it  as  a  juxtaposed  nightmare,  which 
it  is  better  for  men  to  forget  than  to  bear  clearly  in 
mind.  But  you  say  the  stars  were  not  really  what  you 
came  to  see  me  about.  What  was  it,  may  I  ask,  Lady 
Constantine  ? " 

She  mused,  and  sighed,  and  turned  to  him  with 
something  of  the  pathetic  in  her  mien.  "  The  immens- 
ity of  the  subject  you  have  engaged  me  on  has  com- 
pletely crushed  my  subject  out  of  me.  Yours  is 
celestial;  mine,  lamentably  human!  And  the  less 
must  give  way  to  the  greater." 

"But  is  it,  in  a  human  sense,  and  apart  from  macro- 
cosmic  magnitudes,  important?"  he  inquired,  at  last 
attracted  by  her  manner;  for  he  began  to  perceive,  in 
spite  of  his  prepossession,  that  she  had  really  some- 
thing on  her  mind. 

"  It  is  as  important  as  personal  troubles  usually 
are." 

Notwithstanding  her  preconceived  notion  of  coming 
to  Swithin  as  employer  to  dependent,  as  chatelaine  to 
page,  she  was  falling  into  confidential  intercourse  with 
him.  His  vast  and  romantic  endeavors  lent  him  a 
personal  force  and  charm  which  she  could  not  but 
apprehend.  In  the  presence  of  the  immensities  that 
this  young  mmd  had,  as  it  were,  brought  down  from 
above  to  hers,  they  became  unconsciously  equal 
There  was,  moreover,  an  inborn  liking  m  Lady  Con- 
stantine   to    dwell   less   on   her  permanent   position 


■     -        -  TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  35 

as  a  county  lady  than  on  her  passing  emotions  as  a 
woman. 

"  I  will  postpone  the  matter  I  came  to  charge  you 
with,"  she  resumed,  smiling.  "  I  must  reconsider  it. 
Now  I  will  return." 

"Allow  me  to  show  you  out  through  the  trees  and 
across  the  field?" 

She  said  neither  a  distinct  yes  nor  no;  and,  descend 
ing  the  tower,  they  threaded  the  firs  and  crossed  tht 
plowed  field.  By  an  odd  coincidence  he  remarked, 
when  they  drew  near  the  Great  House:  "  Vou  may 
possibly  be  interested  in  knowing,  Lady  Constantine, 
that  that  medium-sized  star  you  see  over  there,  low 
down  in  the  soul..,  is  precisely  over  Sir  Blount  Con- 
stantine's  head  in  the  middle  of  Africa." 

"How  very  strange  that  you  should  have  said  so!" 
she  answered.  "  You  have  broached  for  me  the  very 
subject  I  had  come  to  speak  of." 

"  On  a  domestic  matter  ?  "  he  said,  with  surprise. 

"Yes.  What  a  small  matter  it  seems  now, after  our 
astronomical  stupendousness!  and  yet  on  my  way  to 
you  it  so  far  transcended  the  ordinary  matters  of  my 
life  as  the  subject  you  have  led  me  up  to  transcends 
this.  But,"  with  a  little  laugh,  "  I  will  endeavor  to 
sink  down  to  such  ephemeral  trivialities  as  human 
tragedy,  and  explain,  since  I  have  come.  The  point 
is,  I  want  a  helper:  no  woman  ever  wanted  one  more. 
For  days  I  have  wanted  a  trusty  friend  who  could  go 
on  a  secret  errand  for  me.  It  is  necessary  that  my 
messenger  should  be  educated,  should  be  intelligent, 
should  be  silent  as  the  grave.  Do  you  give  me  your 
solemn  promise  as  to  the  last  point,  if  I  confide  in 
you?" 

"Most  emphatically,  Lady  Constantine" 

"Your  nght  hand  upon  the  compact." 

He  gave  his  hand,  and  raised  hers  to  his  lips.  In 
addition  to  his  respect  for  her  as  the  lady  of  the  manor, 
there  was  the  admiration  of  eighteen  years  for  twenty- 
six  in  such  relations. 

"I  trust  you,"  she  said.  "Now,  beyond  the  above 
conditions,  it  was  specially  necessary  that  my  agent 


36  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

should  have  known  my  husband  well  by  sight  when 
he  was  at  home.  For  the  errand  is  concerning  my 
husband;  I  am  much  disturbed  at  what  I  have  heard 
about  him." 

''  I  am  indeed  sorry  to  know  it." 

"  There  are  only  two  people  in  the  parish  who  ful- 
fill all  the  conditions — Mr.  Torkingham,  and  your- 
self. I  sent  for  Mr.  Torkingham,  and  he  came.  I 
could  not  tell  him.  I  felt  at  the  last  moment  that  he 
wouldn't  do.  I  have  come  to  you  because  I  think  you 
will  do.  This  is  it:  my  husband  has  led  me  and  all 
the  world  to  believe  that  he  is  in  Africa  hunting  lions. 
I  have  had  a  mysterious  letter  informing  me  that  he 
has  been  seen  in  London  in  very  peculiar  circum- 
stances. The  truth  of  this  I  want  ascertained.  Will 
you  go  on  the  journey?" 

"  Personally,  I  would  go  to  the  end  of  the  world  fof 
you,  Lady  Constantine;  but — " 

"No  buts!" 

"How  can  I  leave?" 

"Why  not?" 

"  I  am  preparing  a  work  on  variable  stars.  There 
is  one  of  those  which  I  have  exceptionally  observed 
for  several  months,  and  on  this  my  great  theory  is 
mainly  based.  It  has  been  hitherto  called  irregular; 
but  I  have  detected  a  periodicity  in  its  so-called  irreg- 
ularities which,  if  proved,  would  add  some  very  valu- 
able facts  to  those  known  on  this  subject,  one  of  the 
most  interesting,  perplexing,  and  suggestive  in  the 
whole  field  of  astronomy.  Now,  to  clinch  my  theory, 
there  should  be  a  sudden  variation  this  week — or  at 
latest  next  week — and  I  have  to  watch  every  night  not 
to  let  it  pass.  You  see  my  reason  for  declining,  Lady 
Constantine." 

"Young  men  are  always  so  selfish!"  she  said. 

"  It  might  ruin  the  whole  of  my  year's  labor  if  I 
leave  now!"  returned  the  youth,  greatly  hurt.  "Could 
you  not  wait  a  fortnight  longer?" 

«  No— no.  Don't  think  that  I  have  asked  you,  pray. 
I  have  no  wish  to  inconvenience  you." 

"Lady  Constantine,  don't  be  angry  with  me!     Will 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  37 

you  do  this — watch  the  star  for  me  while  I  am  gone? 
If  you  are  prepared  to  do  it  effectually,  I  will  go." 

"Will  it  be  much  trouble?" 

"  It  would  be  some  trouble.  You  would  have  to 
come  here  every  clear  evening  about  nine.  If  the  sky 
were  not  clear,  then  you  would  have  to  come  at  four 
in  the  morning,  should  the  clouds  have  dispersed." 

"Could  not  the  telescope  be  brought  to  my  house?" 

Swithen  shook  his  head.  "  Perhaps  you  did  not 
observe  its  real  size — that  it  was  fixed  to  a  frame-work? 
I  could  not  afford  to  buy  an  equatorial,  and  I  have  been 
obliged  to  rig  up  an  apparatus  of  my  own  devising,  so 
as  to  make  it  in  some  measure  answer  the  purpose  of 
an  equatorial.  It  could  be  moved,  but  I  would  rather 
not  touch  it." 

"  Well,  I'll  go  to  the  telescope,"  she  went  on,  with  an 
emphasis  that  was  not  wholly  playful.  "  You  are  the 
most  ungallant  youth  I  ever  met  with;  but  I  suppose 
I  must  set  that  down  to  science.  Yes,  I'll  go  to  the 
tower  at  nine  every  night." 

"And  alone?  I  should  prefer  to  keep  my  pursuits 
there  unknown." 

"And  alone,"  she  answered,  quite  overborne  by  his 
inflexibility. 

"You  will  not  miss  the  morning  observation,  if  it 
should  be  necessary?" 

"  I  have  given  my  word." 

"And  I  give  mine.  I  suppose  I  ought  not  to  have 
been  so  exacting!"  He  spoke  with  that  sudden  emo- 
tional consciousness  of  his  own  transitoriness  which 
made  these  alterations  of  mood  possible.  "I  will  go 
anywhere — do  anything  for  you — this  moment — to- 
morrow, or  at  any  time.  But  you  must  return  with 
me  to  the  tower,  and  let  me  show  you  the  observing 
process." 

They  retraced  their  steps,  the  tender  hoar-frost 
taking  the  imprint  of  their  feet,  and  two  stars  in  the 
Twins  looking  down  upon  their  two  persons  through 
the  trees,  as  if  those  two  persons  could  bear  some  sort 
of  comparison  with  them.  On  the  tower  the  instruc- 
tions  were   given.     When  all  was  over,   and  he   was 


38  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

again  conducting  her  to  the  great  house,  she  said: 
"When  can  you  start?" 

"  Now,"  said  Swithin. 

"  So  much  the  better.  You  shall  go  up  by  the  night 
mail." 


CHAPTER  V. 

^^N  the  third  morning  after  the  young  man's  depar- 
^■^^  ture,  Lady  Constantine  opened  the  post-bag 
anxiously.  Though  she  had  risen  before  four  o'clock, 
and  crossed  to  the  tower  through  the  gray  half-light, 
when  every  blade  and  twig  was  furred  with  rime,  she 
felt  no  languor.  Expectation  could  banish  at  cock- 
crow the  eye-heaviness  which  apathy  had  been  unable 
to  disperse  all  the  day  long. 

There  was,  as  she  had  hoped,  a  letter  from  Swithin 
St.  Cleeve. 

Dear  Lady  Constantine  :  I  have  quite  succeeded 
in  my  mission,  and  shall  return  to-morrow  at  ten  p.  m. 
1  hope  you  have  not  failed  in  the  observations. 
Watching  the  star  through  an  opera-glass  Sunday 
night,  I  fancied  some  change  had  taken  place,  but  I 
could  not  make  myself  sure.  Your  memoranda  for 
that  night  I  await  with  impatience.  Please  don't  for- 
get to  write  down,  at  tJie  moment,  all  remarkable  ap- 
pearances both  as  to  color  and  intensity  ;  and  be  very 
exact  as  to  time,  which  correct  in  the  way  I  showed 
you. 

I  am,  dear  Lady  Constantine,  yours  most  faithfully, 

Swithin  St.  Clesve. 

Not  another  word  in  the  letter  about  his  errand  ; 
his  mind  ran  on  nothing  but  this  astronomical  subject. 
He  had  succeeded  in  his  mission,  and  yet  he  did  not 
even  say  yes  or  no  to  the  great  question — whether  or 
not  her  husband  was  masquerading  in  London  at  the 
address  she  had  given.  "  Was  ever  anything  so  pro- 
voking !  "  she  cried. 


TWO  0 IV  A    TO  WE  J?.  39 

However,  the  time  was  not  long  to  wait.  His  way- 
homeward  would  lie  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the 
manor  house,  and  though  for  certain  reasons  she  had 
forbidden  him  to  call  at  the  late  hour  of  his  arrival, 
she  could  easily  intercept  him  in  the  avenue.  At 
twenty  minutes  past  ten  she  went  out  into  the  drive, 
and  stood  in  the  dark.  Seven  minutes  later  she  heard 
his  footstep,  and  saw  his  outline  in  the  slit  of  light 
between  the  avenue  trees.  He  had  a  valise  in  one 
hand,  a  great  coat  on  his  arm,  and  under  his  arm  a 
parcel  which  seemed  to  be  very  precious,  from  the 
manner  in  which  he  held  it. 

"  Lady  Constantine  ?  "  he  asked,  softly. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  in  her  excitement  holding  out  both 
her  hands,  though  he  had  plainly  not  expected  her  to 
offer  one. 

"  Did  you  watch  the  star  ? " 

"  I'll  tell  you  everything  in  detail  ;  but,  pray,  your 
errand  first !  " 

"  Yes,  it's  all  right.  Did  you  watch  every  night — 
oot  missing  one  ?  " 

"I  forgot  to  go — twice,"  she  murmured,  C(>ntritely. 

"Oh,  Lady  Constantine!"  he  cried,  in  dismay. 
"  How  cou/d  you  serve  me  so  !  what  shall  I  do  !  " 

"  Please  forgive  me  !  Indeed,  I  could  not  help  it. 
I  had  watched  and  watched  and  watched,  and  nothing 
happened  ;  and  somehow  my  vigilance  relaxed  when 
I  found  nothing  was  likely  to  take  place  in  the  star." 

"But  the  very  circumstance  of  it  not  having  hap- 
pened made  it  all  the  more  likely  every  day." 

"Have  you — seen "  she  began,  after  a  silence. 

Svvithin  sighed,  lowered  his  thoughts  to  sublunary 
things,  and  told  briefly  the  story  of  his  journey.  Sir 
Blount  Constantine  was  not  in  London  at  the  address 
which  had  been  anonymously  sent  her.  It  was  a  mis- 
take of  identity.  The  person  who  had  been  seen  there 
Svvithin  had  sought  out.  He  resembled  Sir  Blount 
strongly  ;  but  he  was  a  stranger. 

"  How  can  I  reward  you  ? "  she  exclaimed,  when  he 
had  done. 

"  In  no  way  but  by  giving  me  your  good  wishes  in 


40  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

what  I  am  going  to  tell  you  on  my  own  account." 
He  spoke  in  tones  of  mysterious  exultation.  "  This 
parcel  is  going  to  make  my  fame  !  " 

"What  is  it?" 

"  A  huge  object-glass  for  the  great  telescope  I  am 
so  busy  about  !  Such  a  magnificent  aid  to  science 
has  never  entered  this  country  before,  you  may  de- 
pend !  " 

He  produced  from  under  his  arm  the  carefully 
cuddled-up  package,  which  was  in  shape  a  round  flat 
disk,  like  a  dinner-plate,  tied  in  paper. 

Proceeding  to  explain  his  plans  to  her  more  fully, 
he  walked  with  her  towards  the  door  by  which  she  had 
emerged.  It  was  a  little  side  wicket  through  a  wall 
dividing  the  open  park  from  the  garden  terraces. 
Here  for  a  moment  he  placed  his  valise  and  parcel  on 
the  opening  of  the  stone  balustrade,  till  he  had  bidden 
her  farewell.  Then  he  turned,  and  in  laying  hold  of 
his  bag  by  the  dim  light  pushed  the  parcel  over  the 
parapet.  It  fell  upon  the  paved  walk  ten  or  a  dozen 
feet  beneath. 

"  Oh,  good  heavens  !  " 

"What?" 

"My  object-glass  broken!" 

"  Is  it  of  much  value  ?  " 

"It  cost  all  I  possess." 

He  ran  round  by  the  steps  to  the  lower  lawn.  Lady 
Constantine  following,  as  he  continued  :  "  It  is  a  mag- 
nificent six-inch  first  quality  object  lens.  I  took  ad- 
vantage of  my  journey  to  London  to  get  it.  I  have 
been  six  weeks  making  the  tube,  of  milled  board  ;  and 
as  I  had  not  enough  money  by  twelve  pounds  for  the 
lens,  I  borrowed  it  of  my  grandmother  out  of  her  last 
annuity  payment.     What  can  be — can  be  done  !  " 

"Perhaps  it  is  not  broken." 

He  felt  on  the  ground,  found  the  parcel,  and  shook 
it.  A  clicking  noise  issued  from  inside.  Swithin 
smote  his  forehead  with  his  hand,  and  walked  up  and 
down  like  a  mad  fellow. 

"  My  telescope  !  I  have  waited  nine  months  for 
this  lens.     Now   the  possibility  of  setting  up  a  really 


TPVO  ON  A    TO  IVER.  41 

powerful  instrument  is  over  !  It  is  too  cruel — how 
could  it  happen  !  .  .  .  Lady  Constantine,  I  am 
ashamed  of  myself — before  you.  Oh,  but,  Lady  Con- 
stantine, if  you  only  knew  what  it  is  to  a  person  en- 
gaged in  science  to  have  the  means  of  clinching  a  the- 
ory snatched  away  at  the  last  moment  !  It  is  I  against 
the  world  ;  and  when  the  world  has  accidents  on  its 
side  in  addition  to  its  natural  strength,  what  chance 
for  me  I  "  The  young  astronomer  leaned  against  the 
wall,  and  was  silent.  His  misery  was  of  an  intensity 
and  kind  with  that  of  Palissy,  in  these  struggles  with 
an  adverse  fate. 

"  Don't  mind  it, — pray  don't !  "  said  Lady  Constan- 
tine, with  deep  feeling.  "  It  is  dreadfully  unfortun- 
ate !  You  have  my  whole  sympathy.  Can  it  be 
mended  ?  " 

"  Mended— no,  no  !" 

"Cannot  you  do  with  your  present  one  a  little 
longer  ?" 

"  It  is  altogether  inferior,  cheap,  and  bad  !" 

"I'll  get  you  another, — yes,  indeed,  I  will!  Allow 
me  to  get  you  another  as  soon  as  possible.  I'll  do 
anything  to  assist  you  out  of  your  trouble;  for  I  am 
most  anxious  to  see  you  famous.  I  know  you  will  be 
a  great  astronomer,  in  spite  of  this  mishap  !  Come, 
say  I  may  get  a  new  one." 

Swithin  took  her  hand.  He  could  not  trust  himself 
to  speak. 

Some  days  later  a  little  box  of  peculiar  kind  came  to 
the  Great  House.  It  was  addressed  to  Lady  Con- 
stantine, "  with  great  care."  She  had  it  partly  opened 
and  taken  to  her  own  little  writing-room  ;  and  after 
lunch,  when  she  had  dressed  for  walking,  she  took 
from  the  box  a  paper  parcel  like  the  one  which  had 
met  with  the  accident.  This  she  hid  under  her  man- 
tle, as  if  she  had  stolen  it  ;  and,  going  f  ut  slowly 
across  the  lawn,  passed  through  the  little  door  before 
spoken  of,  and  was  soon  hastening  in  the  direction  of 
Rings-Hill  column. 

There  was  a  bright  sun  overhead  on  that  afternoon 
of  early  spring,  and  its  rays  shed  an  unusual  warmth, 


42  TWO  ON  A   TOWJiJi. 

though  shady  places  still  retained  the  look  and  feel  ot 
winter.  Rooks  were  already  beginning  to  build  new 
nests  or  to  mend  up  old  ones,  and  clamorously  call- 
ed in  neighbors  to  give  opinions  on  difficulties  in 
their  architecture.  Lady  Constantine  swerved  once 
from  her  path,  as  if  she  had  decided  to  go  to  the 
homestead  where  Swithin  lived;  but  on  second  thoughts 
she  bent  her  steps  to  the  column.  Drawing  near  it, 
she  looked  up  ;  but  on  account  of  the  hight  of  the 
parapet  nobody  could  be  seen  thereon  who  did  not 
stand  on  tiptoe.  She  thought,  however,  that  her  young 
friend  might  possibly  see  her,  if  he  were  there,  and 
come  down  ;  and  that  he  was  there  she  soon  ascer- 
tained by  finding  the  door  unlocked,  and  the  key  in- 
side. No  movement,  however,  reached  her  ears  from 
above,  and  she  began  to  ascend. 

Meanwhile  affairs  at  the  top  of  the  column  had  pro- 
gressed as  follows.  The  afternoon  being  exceptionally 
fine,  Swithin  had  ascended  about  two  o'clock,  and, 
seating  himself  at  the  little  table  which  he  had  construct- 
ed on  the  spot,  he  began  reading  over  his  notes  and  ex- 
amining some  astronomical  journals  that  had  reached 
him  in  the  morning.  The  sun  blazed  into  the  hollow 
roof-space  as  into  a  tube,  and  the  sides  kept  out  every 
breeze.  Though  the  month  was  February  below,  it 
was  May  in  the  abacus  of  the  column.  The  state  of  the 
atmosphere,  and  the  fact  that  on  the  previous  night 
he  had  pursued  his  observations  till  past  two  o'clock, 
produced  in  him  at  the  end  of  half  an  hour  an  over- 
powering inclination  to  sleep.  Spreading  on  the  lead- 
work  a  thick  rug,  which  he  kept  up  there,  he  flung 
himself  down  against  the  parapet,  and  was  soon  in  a 
state  of  unconsciousness. 

It  was  about  ten  minutes  afterwards  that  a  soft 
rustle  of  silken  clothes  came  up  the  spiral  staircase, 
and,  hesitating  onward,  reached  the  orifice,  where  ap- 
peard  the  form  of  Lady  Constantine.  She  did  not  at 
first  perceive  that  he  was  present,  and  stood  still  to  re- 
connoiter.  Her  eye  glanced  over  his  telescope,  now 
wrapped  up,  his  table  and  papers,  his  observing-chair, 
and  his    contrivances   for  making  the  best  of  a  defi- 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  43 

ciency  of  instruments.  All  was  warm,  sunny,  and  si- 
lent, except  that  a  solitary  bee,  which  had  somehow 
got  within  the  hollow  of  the  abacus,  was  singing  round 
inquiringly,  unable  to  discern  that  ascent  was  the 
only  mode  of  escape.  In  another  moment  she  beheld 
the  astronomer,  lying  in  the  sun  like  a  sailor  in  the 
main-top. 

Lady  Constantine  coughed  slightly  :  he  did  not 
awake.  She  then  entered,  and  drawing  the  parcel 
from  beneath  her  cloak,  placed  it  on  the  table ; 
after  this  she  waited,  looking  for  a  long  time  at  his 
sleeping  face,  which  had  a  very  interesting  appearance. 
She  seemed  reluctant  to  leave,  yet  wanted  resolution 
to  wake  him  ;  and  penciling  his  name  on  the  parcel, 
she  withdrew  to  the  staircase,  where  the  brushing  of 
her  dress  decreased  to  silence  as  she  receded  round  on 
her  way  to  the  base. 

Swithin  still  slept  on,  and  presently  the  rustle  began 
again  in  the  far-down  interior  of  the  column.  The 
door  could  be  heard  closing,  and  the  rustle  came 
nearer,  showing  that  she  had  shut  herself  in — no  doubt 
to  lessen  the  "risk  of  an  accidental  surprise  by  any 
roaming  villager.  When  Lady  Constantine  reappeared 
at  the  top,  and  saw  the  parcel  still  untouched,  and 
Swithen  asleep  iv~,  before,  she  exhibited  some  disap- 
pointment ;  but  she  did  not  retreat. 

Looking  again  at  him,  her  eyes  became  so  senti- 
mentally fixed  on  his  face  that  it  seemed  as  if  she  could 
not  withdraw  them.  There  lay,  in  the  shape  of  an 
Antinous,  no  amoroso,  no  gallant,  but  a  guileless  phil- 
osopher. His  parted  lips  were  lips  that  spoke,  not  of 
love,  but  of  millions  of  miles  ;  those  were  eyes  which 
looked,  not  into  the  depths  of  woman's  looks,  but  of 
stellar  aspects  and  the  configuration  of  constellations. 
Thus,  to  his  physical  attractiveness  was  added  the 
attractiveness  of  mental  inaccessibility.  The  ennobling 
influence  of  scientific  pursuits  was  demonstrated  by  the 
speculative  purity  which  expressed  itself  in  his  eyes 
whenever  he  looked  at  her  in  speaking,  and  in  the 
child-like  faults  of  manner  which  arose  from  his 
obtuseness  to  their  difference  of  sex.     lie  had  never 


44  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

since  becoming  a  man,  looked  even  so  low  as  to  the 
level  of  a  Lady  Constantine.  His  heaven  at  present 
was  truly  in  the  skies,  and  not  in  that  only  other  place 
where  they  say  it  can  be  found,  in  the  eyes  of  some 
daughter  of  Eve.  Would  any  Circe  or  Calypso— and 
if  so  what  one  ? — ever  check  this  pale  haired  scientist's 
nocturnal  sailings  into  the  interminable  spaces  over- 
head, and  send  all  his  mighty  calculations  on  cosmic 
force  and  stellar  fire  flying  into  Limbo  ?  Oh,  the  pity 
of  it,  if  such  should  be  the  case  ! 

She  became  much  absorbed  in  these  very  womanly 
reflections ;  and  at  last  Lady  Constantine  sighed, 
perhaps  she  herself  did  not  exactly  know  why.  Then 
a  very  soft  expression  lighted  on  her  lips  and  eyes, 
and  she  looked  at  one  jump  seven  years  more  youthful, 
—quite  a  girl  in  aspect,  younger  than  he.  On  the 
table  lay  his  implements  ;  among  them  a  pair  of  scis- 
sors, which,  to  judge  from  the  shreds  around,  had  been 
used  in  cutting  curves  in  thick  paper,  for  some  calcu- 
lating process. 

What  whim,  agitation,  or  attraction  prompted  the 
impulse  nobody  knows  ;  but  she  took  the  scissors,  and, 
bending  over  the  sleeping  youth,  cut  off  one  of  the 
curls,  or  rather  crooks, — for  they  hardly  reached  a 
curl, — into  which  each  lock  of  his  hair  chose  to  twist 
itself  in  the  last  inch  of  its  length.  The  hair  fell  upon 
the  rug.  She  picked  it  up  quickly,  returned  the  scis- 
sors to  the  table,  and,  as  if  her  dignity  had  suddenly 
become  ashamed  of  her  fantasies,  hastened  through 
the  door,  and  descended  the  staircase. 


TIFO  ON  A   TO  IVER.  45 


CHAPTER  VI. 

VyHEN  his  nap  had  naturally  exhausted  itself, 
Swithin  awoke.  He  awoke  without  any  surprise, 
for  he  not  unfrequently  gave  to  sleep  in  the  day-time 
what  he  had  stolen  from  it  in  the  night  watches.  The 
first  object  that  met  his  eyes  was  the  parcel  on  the 
table,  and,  seeing  his  name  inscribed  thereon,  he  made 
no  scruple  to  open  it.  The  sun  flashed  upon  a  lens  of 
surprising  magnitude,  polished  to  such  a  smoothness 
that  the  eye  could  scarcely  meet  its  reflections.  Here 
was  a  crystal,  in  whose  depths  were  to  be  seen  more 
wonders  than  had  been  revealed  by  the  crystals  of  all 
the  Cagliostros. 

Swithin,  hot  with  joyousness,  took  this  treasure  to 
his  telescope  manufactory  at  the  homestead;  then  he 
started  off  for  the  Great  House.  On  gaining  its  pre- 
cincts he  felt  shy  of  calling,  never  having  received  any 
hint  or  permission  to  do  so;  while  Lady  Constantine's 
mysterious  manner  of  leaving  the  parcel  seemed  to 
demand  a  like  mysteriousness  in  his  approaches  to 
her.  All  the  afternoon  he  lingered  about  uncertainly, 
in  the  hope  of  intercepting  her  on  her  return  from  a 
drive,  occasionally  walking  with  an  indifferent  lounge 
across  glades  commanded  by  the  windows,  that  if  she 
were  in-doors  she  might  know  he  was  near.  But  she 
did  not  show  herself  during  the  daylight.  Still  im- 
pressed by  her  playful  secrecy,  he  carried  on  the  same 
idea  after  dark,  by  returning  to  the  house,  and  passing 
through  the  garden  door  on  to  the  lawn  front,  where 
he  sat  on  tlie  parapet  that  breasted  the  terrace.  She 
frequently  came  out  here  for  a  melancholy  saunter 
after  dinner,  and  to-night  was  such  an  occasion, 
Swithin  went  forward,  and  met  her  at  nearly  the  spot 
where  he  had  dropped  the  lens  some  nights  earlier. 


4^  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

"  I  have  come  to  see  you,  Lady  Constantine.  How 
did  the  glass  get  on  my  table  ?" 

She  laughed  as  lightly  as  a  girl;  that  he  had  come 
in  this  way  was  plainly  no  offense  thus  far. 

"Perhaps  it  was  dropped  from  the  clouds  by  a 
bird,"  she  said. 

"  Why  should  you  be  so  good  to  me  ?  Whatevei 
discoveries  result  from  this  shall  be  ascribed  to  you  as 
much  as  to  me.  Where  should  I  have  been  without 
your  gift  ? " 

"  You  would  possibly  have  accomplished  your  pur- 
pose just  the  same,  and  have  been  so  much  the  nobler 
for  your  struggle  against  ill-luck.  I  hope  that  now 
you  will  be  able  to  proceed  with  your  large  telescope 
as  if  nothing  had  happened." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  will,  certainly.  I  am  afraid  I  showed 
too  much  feeling,  the  reverse  of  stoical,  when  the  acci- 
dent occurred.     That  was  not  very  noble  of  me." 

"  There  is  nothing  unnatural  in  such  feeling  at  your 
age.  When  you  are  older  you  will  smile  at  such 
moods,  and  at  the  mishaps  that  gave  rise  to  them." 

"  Ah,  I  perceive  you  think  me  weak  in  the  extreme. 
But  you  will  never  realize  that  an  incident  which  filled 
but  a  degree  in  the  circle  of  your  thoughts  covered 
the  whole  circumference  of  mine.  No  person  can  see 
exactly  what  and  where  another's  horizon  is," 

They  soon  parted,  and  she  re-entered  the  house, 
where  she  sat  reflecting  for  some  time,  till  she  seemed 
to  fear  that  she  had  wounded  his  feelings.  She  awoke 
in  the  night,  and  thought  the  same  thing  more  in- 
tensely. When  it  was  morning  she  looked  across  at 
the  tower,  and,  sitting  down,  wrote  the  following  note: 

Dear  Mr.  St.  Cleeve. — I  cannot  allow  you  to  re- 
main under  the  impression  that  I  despised  your  scien- 
tific endeavors  in  speaking  as  I  did  last  night.  I  think 
you  were  too  sensitive  to  my  remark.  But  perhaps 
you  were  agitated  with  the  labors  of  the  day,  and  I 
fear  that  watching  so  late  at  night  must  make  you 
very  weary.  If  I  can  help  you  again,  please  let  me 
know.     I   never  realized    the  grandeur  of  astronomy 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  47 

till  you  showed  me  how  to  do  so.  Also  let  me  know 
about  the  new  telescope.  Come  and  see  me  at  any 
time.  After  your  great  kindness  in  being  my  messen- 
ger I  can  never  do  enough  for  you.  I  wish  you  had  g 
mother  or  sister,  and  pity  your  loneliness!  I  am  lone- 
ly, too.  Yours  truly, 

ViVIETTE    CONSTANTINE. 

She  was  so  anxious  that  he  should  get  this  letter  the 
same  day  that  she  ran  across  to  the  column  with  it 
during  the  morning,  preferring  to  be  her  own  emis- 
sary in  so  curious  a  case.  The  door,  as  she  had  ex- 
pected, was  locked;  and,  slipping  the  letter  under  it, 
she  went  home  again.  During  lunch  her  ardor  in  the 
cause  of  Swithin's  hurt  feelings  cooled  down,  till  she 
exclaimed  to  herself,  as  she  sat  at  her  lonely  table: 
"What  could  have  possessed  me  to  write  in  that 
way!" 

After  lunch  she  went  faster  to  the  tower  than  she 
had  gone  in  the  early  morning,  and  peeped  eagerly  in- 
to the  chink  under  the  door.  She  could  discern  no 
letter,  and  on  trying  the  latch  found  that  the  door 
would  open.  The  letter  was  gone,  Swithin  having  ob- 
viously arrived  in  the  interval. 

She  blushed  a  blush  which  seemed  to  say:  "  I  am 
getting  foolishly  interested  in  this  young  man."  She 
had,  in  short,  in  her  own  opinion,  somewhat  overstep- 
ped the  bounds  of  dignity.  Her  instincts  did  not 
square  well  with  the  formalities  of  her  existence,  and 
she  walked  home  despondently. 

Had  a  concert,  bazaar,  lecture  or  Dorcas  meeting 
required  the  patronage  and  support  of  Lady  Constan- 
tine  at  this  juncture,  the  circumstance  would  probably 
have  been  sufficient  to  divert  her  mind  from  Swithin 
St.  Cleeve  and  astronomy  for  some  little  time.  But 
as  none  of  these  incidents  were  within  the  range  of 
expectation, — Welland  House  and  parish  lying  far 
from  towns  and  watering-places — the  void  in  her  out- 
er life  c^l  inued,  and  with  it  the  void  in  her  inner  life. 
The  youth  had  not  answered  her  letter;  neither  had 
he   called    upon    her,  in  response  to  the  invitation  she 


48  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

had  regretted,  with  the  rest  of  the  epistle,  as  being 
somewhat  too  warmly  informal  for  black  and  white. 
To  speak  tenderly  to  him  was  one  thing,  to  write  an- 
other— that  was  her  feeling  immediately  after  the 
event;  but  his  countermove  of  silence  and  avoidance, 
though  probably  the  result  of  pure  unconsciousness  on 
his  part,  completely  dispersed  such  self-considerations 
now.  Her  eyes  never  fell  upon  the  Ring's-Hill  column 
without  a  solicitous  wonder  arising  as  to  what  he  was 
doing.  A  natural  woman,  she  would  assume  the  re- 
motest possibility  to  be  the  most  likely  contingency, 
if  the  possibility  had  the  recommendation  of  being 
tragical;  and  she  now  feared  that  something  was 
wrong  with  Swithin  St.  Cleeve.  Yet  there  was  not  the 
least  doubt  that  he  had  become  so  immersed  in  the  busi- 
ness of  the  new  telescope  as  to  forget  everything  else. 

On  Sunday,  between  the  services,  she  walked  to 
Little  Welland,  chiefly  for  the  sake  of  giving  a  run  to 
a  house-dog,  a  large  black  retriever,  of  whom  she  was 
fond.  The  distance  was  but  short;  and  she  returned 
along  a  narrow  lane,  divided  from  the  river  by  a  hedge, 
through  whose  leafless  twigs  the  ripples  flashed  silver 
lights  into  her  eyes.  Here  she  discovered  Swithin, 
leaning  over  a  gate,  his  eyes  bent  upon  the  stream. 
The  dog  first  attracted  his  attention;  then  he  heard 
her,  and  turned  round.  She  had  never  seen  him  look- 
ing so  despondent. 

"You  have  never  called,  though  I  invited  you," 
said  Lady  Constantine. 

"  My  great  telescope  won't  work." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that.  So  it  has  made  you  quite  for- 
get me?" 

"Ah,  yes;  you  wrote  me  a  very  kind  letter,  which  I 
ought  to  have  answered.  Well,  I  did  forget.  Lady 
Constantine.  My  new  telescope  won't  work;  and  I 
don't  know  what  to  do  about  it  at  all!  " 

"  Can  I  assist  you  any  further?" 

"  No,  I  fear  not.  Besides,  you  have  assisted  me  al- 
ready." 

"  What  would  really  help  you  out  of  all  your  diffi- 
culties?    Something  would,  surely?" 


7'IFO  O.V  A   TOWER.  4J 

He  shook  his  head. 

"There  must  be  some  solution  to  them?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  replied,  with  a  hypothetical  gaze  into 
the  stream;  ^^ some  solution,  of  course — an  equatorial, 
for  instance." 

"  What's  that?" 

"  Briefly,  an  impossibility.  It  is  a  splendid  instru- 
ment, with  an  object  lens  of,  say,  six  or  nine  inches 
aperture,  mounted  with  its  axis  parallel  to  the  earth's 
axis,  and  fitted  up  with  graduated  circles  for  denoting 
right  ascensions  and  declinations;  besides  having 
special  eye-pieces,  a  finder,  and  all  sorts  of  appliances, 
clock-work,  to  make  the  telescope  follow  the  motion 
in  right  ascension — I  cannot  tell  you  half  the  conve- 
niences.    Ah,  an  equatorial  is  a  thing  indeed!" 

"An  equatorial  is  the  one  instrument  required  to 
make  you  quite  happy?" 

"Well,  yes." 

"  I'll  see  what  I  can  do." 

"  But,  Lady  Constantine,  an  equatorial  such  as  I 
describe  costs  as  much  as  two  grand  pianos." 

She  was  rather  staggered  at  this  news;  but  she 
rallied  gallantly,  and  said:  "Never  mind.  I'll  make 
inquiries." 

"  But  it  could  not  be  put  on  the  tower  without  peo- 
ple seeing  it.  It  would  have  to  be  fixed  to  the  ma- 
sonry. And  there  must  be  a  dome  of  some  kind  to 
keep  off  the  rain.     A  tarpaulin  might  do." 

Lady  Constantine  reflected.  "  It  would  be  a  great 
business,  I  see,"  she  said.  "Though  as  far  as  the  fix- 
ing and  roofing  go,  I  would  of  course  consent  to  your 
doing  what  you  liked  with  the  old  column.  My  work- 
men could  fix  it,  could  they  not?" 

"  Oh,  yes.  But  what  would  Sir  Blount  say,  if  he 
came  home  and  saw  the  goings-on?" 

Lady  Constantine  turned  aside  to  hide  a  sudden 
displacement  of  blood  from  her  cheek.  "Ah — my 
husband!"  she  whispered.  "I  am  just  now  going  to 
church,"  she  said.     "I  will  think  of  this  matter." 

In  church  it  was  with  Lady  Constantino  as  with  the 
Lord  Angelo  of  Vienna,  in  a  similar  situation — Heaven 

4 


50  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

had  her  empty  words  only,  and  her  invention  heard 
not  her  tongue.  She  soon  recovered  from  the  mo- 
mentary consternation  into  which  she  had  fallen  at 
Swithin's  abrupt  query.  The  possibility  of  that  young 
astronomer  becoming  a  renowned  scientist  by  her  aid 
was  a  thought  which  gave  her  secret  pleasure.  The 
course  of  rendering  him  instant  material  help  began 
to  have  a  great  fascination  for  her;  it  was  a  new  and 
unexpected  channel  for  her  cribbed  and  confined  emo- 
tions. With  experiences  so  much  wider  than  his,  Lady 
Constantine  saw  that  the  chances  were  perhaps  a  mil- 
lion to  one  against  Swithin  St.  Cleeve  ever  being  As- 
tronomer-Royal, or  Astronomer-Extraordinary  of  any 
sort;  yet  the  remaining  chance  in  his  favor  was  one  of 
those  possibilities  which,  to  a  woman  of  bounding  in- 
tellect and  venturesome  fancy,  are  pleasanter  to  dwell 
on  than  likely  issues  that  have  no  savor  of  high  specu- 
lation in  them.  The  equatorial  question  was  a  great 
one;  and  she  had  caught  such  a  large  spark  from  his 
enthusiasm  that  she  could  think  of  nothing  so  piquant 
as  how  to  obtain  the  important  instrument. 

When  Tabitha  Lark  arrived  at  the  Great  House, 
next  day,  instead  of  finding  Lady  Constantine  in  bed, 
she  discovered  her  in  the  library,  poring  over  what 
astronomical  works  she  had  been  able  to  unearth  from 
the  shelves.  As  these  publications  were,  for  a  science 
of  such  rapid  development,  somewhat  venerable,  there 
was  not  much  help  of  a  practical  kind  to  be  gained 
from  them.  Nevertheless,  the  equatorial  retained  a 
hold  upon  her  fancy,  till  she  became  as  eager  to  see 
one  on  the  Rings-Hill  column  as  Swithin  himself. 

The  upshot  of  it  was  that  Lady  Constantine  sent  a 
message  that  evening  to  Rings-Hill  Bottom,  where 
the  homestead  of  Swithin's  grandmother  was  situated, 
requesting  the  young  man's  presence  at  the  house  at 
twelve  o'clock  next  day.  He  promptly  returned  an 
obedient  reply,  and  the  circumstance  was  enough  to 
lend  great  freshness  to  her  manner  next  morning,  in- 
stead of  the  leaden  air  which  was  too  frequent  to  her 
before  the  sun  reached  the  meridian,  and  sometimes 
after.     The  mental  room  taken  up  by  an  idea  depends 


TIVO  ON  A    TOWER.  51 

as  largely  on  the  available  space  for  it  as  on  its  nomi- 
nal magnitude  ;  in  Lady  Constantine's  life  of  infestiv- 
ity,  in  her  domestic  voids,  and  in  her  social  discourage- 
ments, there  was  nothing  to  oust  the  lightest  fancy. 
Swithin  had,  in  fact,  arisen  as  an  attractive  little  inter- 
polation between  herself  and  despair. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


A 


FOG  deformed  all  the  trees  of  the  park  that  morn- 
ing; the  white  atmosphere  adhered  to  the  ground 
like  a  fungoid  grown  from  it,  and  made  the  turfed 
undulations  look  slimy  and  raw  ;  but  Lady  Constan- 
tine  settled  down  in  her  chair  to  await  the  coming  of 
the  late  curate's  son,  with  a  serenity  which  the  vast 
blanks  outside  could  neither  destroy  nor  baffle.  At  two  ♦ 
minutes  to  twelve  the  door-bell  rang,  and  a  look  over- 
spread the  lady's  face  that  was  neither  maternal, 
sisterly,  nor  amorous,  but  partook  in  an  indescribable 
manner  of  all  three.  The  door  was  flung  open  and 
the  young  man  was  ushered  in,  the  fog  still  clinging 
to  his  hair,  in  which  she  could  discern  a  little  notch 
where  she  had  nipped  off  the  curl. 

A  speechlessness  that  socially  was  a  defect  in  him 
was  to  her  view  a  piquant  attribute  just  now.  He 
looked  rather  alarmed.  "Lady  Constantine,  have  1 
done  anything  " — he  began  breathlessly,  as  he  gazed 
in  her  face,  with  parted  lips. 

"Oh,  no,  of  course  not.  I  have  decided  to  do  some- 
thing— nothing  more,"  she  said,  holding  out  her  hand, 
which  he  rather  gingerly  touched.  "  Don't  look  so 
concerned.     Who  makes  equatorials  ?" 

This  remark  was  like  the  drawing  of  a  weir-hatch, 
and  she  was  speedily  inundated  with  all  she  wished  to 
know  concerning  astronomical  opticians.  When  he 
had  imparted  the  particulars  he  waited,  manifestlv 
burning  to  know  whither  these  inquiries  tended. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  buy  you   one,"  she  said,  gently 

He  looked  as  if  lie  would  faint, 


52  TWO  ON  A    TOIVER. 

"  Certainly  not.     I  do  not  wish  it.     I 1  could  not 

have  accepted  it,"  said  the  young  man. 

"  But  I  am  going  to  buy  one  for  myself.  I  lack  a 
hobby,  and  I  shall  choose  astronomy.  I  shall  fix  my 
equatorial  on  the  column." 

Swi'hin  brightened  up. 

"  And  I  shall  let  you  have  the  use  of  it  whenever 
you  choose.  In  brief,  Swithin  St.  Cleeve  shall  be 
Lady  Constantine's  Astronomer-Royal;  and  she " 

"  Shall  be  his  queen."  The  words  came  not  much 
the  worse  for  being  uttered  only  in  the  tone  of  one 
anxious  to  complete  a  tardy  sentence. 

"Well,  that's  what  I  have  decided  to  do,"  resumed 
Lady  Constantine.  "  I  will  write  to  these  opticians  at 
once." 

There  seemed  to  be  no  more  for  him  to  do  than  to 
thank  her  for  the  privilege,  which  he  promptly  did, 
and  then  made  as  if  to  go.  But  Lady  Constantine  de- 
tained him,  with  :    "  Have  you  ever  seen  my  library  ?" 

"  No  ;  never." 

"You  don't  say  you  would  like  to  see  it." 

"But  I  should." 

"It  is  the  third  door  on  the  right.  You  can  find  your 
way  in,  and  you  can  stay  there  as  long  as  you  like." 

Swithin  then  left  the  morning-room  for  the  apait- 
ment  designated,  and  amused  himself  in  that  "soul 
of  the  house,"  as  Cicero  defined  it,  till  he  heard  the 
lunch-bell  sounding  from  the  turret,  when  he  came 
down  from  the  library  steps,  and  thought  it  time  to 
go  home.  But  at  that  moment  a  servant  entered  to 
inquire  whether  he  would  prefer  to  have  his  lunch 
brought  in  to  him  there,  and  upon  his  replying  in  the 
affirmative,  a  large  tray  arrived  on  the  stomach  of  a 
footman,  and  Swithin  was  greatly  surprised  to  see  a 
whole  pheasant  placed  at  his  disposal. 

Having  breakfasted  at  eight  that  morning,  and  hav- 
ing been  much  in  the  open  air  afterward,  the  Adonis 
astronomer's  appetite  assumed  grand  proportions. 
How  much  of  that  pheasant  he  might  consistently  eat 
without  hurting  his  dear  patroness  Lady  Constan- 
tine's feelings,  when  he  could  readily  eat  it  all,  was  a 


TWO  OA^  A    TO  WER.  53 

problem  in  which  the  reasonableness  of  a  larger  and 
larger  quantity  argued  itself  inversely  as  a  smaller 
and  smaller  quantity  remained.  When,  at  length,  he 
had  finally  decided  on  a  terminal  point  in  the  body  of 
the  bird,  the  door  was  gently  opened. 

"Oh,  you  have  not  finished?"  came  to  him  over  his 
shoulder,  in  a  considerate  voice. 

"  Oh,  yes,  thank  you.  Lady  Constantinne,"  he  said, 
jumping  up. 

"  Why  did  you  prefer  to  lunch  in  this  awkward, 
dusty  place  ?" 

"  I  thought— it  would  be  better,"  said  Swithin,  sim- 
ply. 

"There  is  fruit  in  the  other  room,  if  you  like  to 
come.     But  perhaps  you  would  rather  not?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  should  much  like  to,"  said  Swithin, 
walking  over  his  napkin,  and  following  her  as  she  led 
the  way  to  the  adjoining  apartment. 

Here,  while  she  asked  him  what  he  had  been  read- 
ing, he  modestly  ventured  on  an  apple,  in  whose  fla- 
vor he  recognized  the  familiar  taste  of  old  friends 
robbed  from  lier  husband's  orchards  in  his  childhood, 
long  before  Lady  Constantine's  advent  on  the  scene. 
She  supposed  he  confined  his  search  to  his  own  sub- 
lime subject,  astronom}'. 

Swithin  suddenly  became  older  to  the  eye,  as  his 
thoughts  reverted  to  the  topic  thus  reintroduced. 
"Yes,"  he  informed  her.  "I  seldom  read  any  other 
subject.  In  these  days  the  secret  of  productive  study 
is  to  avoid  well." 

"Did  you  find  any  good  treatise?" 

"  None.  The  theories  in  your  books  are  almost  as 
obsolete  as  the  Ptolemaic  system.  Only  fancy,  that 
magnificent  Cyclopaedia,  leather-bound,  and  stamped, 
and  gilt,  and  wide-margined,  and  bearing  the  blazon 
of  your  house  in  magnificent  colors,  says  that  the 
twinkling  of  the  stars  is  probably  caused  by  heavenly 
bodies  passing  in  front  of  them  in  their  revolu- 
tions." 

"  And  is  it  not  so  ?  That  was  what  I  learned  when 
I  was  a  girl." 


54  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

The  modern  Eudoxus  now  rose  above  the  embar- 
rassing horizon  of  Lady  Constantine's  great  house, 
magnificent  furniture,  and  awe-inspiring  footmen.  He 
became  quite  natural,  all  his  self-consciousness  fled, 
and  his  eye  spoke  into  hers  no  less  than  his  lips  to 
her  ears,  as  he  said:  "  How  such  a  theory  can  have 
lingered  on  to  this  day  beats  conjecture  !  Francois 
Arago,  as  long  as  fifty  or  sixty  years  ago,  conclusively 
established  the  fact  that  scintillation  is  the  simplest 
thing  in  the  world — merely  a  matter  of  atmosphere. 
But  I  won't  speak  of  this  to  you  nov/.  The  compara- 
tive absence  of  scintillation  in  warm  countries  was 
noticed  by  Humboldt.  Then,  again,  the  scintillations 
vary.  No  star  flaps  his  wings  like  Sirius  when  he  lies 
low!  He  flashes  out  emeralds  and  rubies,  amethys- 
tine flames  and  sapphirine  colors,  in  a  manner  quite 
marvelous  to  behold.  And  this  is  only  one  star!  So, 
too,  do  Arcturus,  and  Capella,  and  lesser  luminaries. 
.     .     .     But  I  tire  you  with  this  subject?" 

"  On  the  contrary,  you  speak  so  beautifully  that  I 
could  listen  all  day." 

The  astronomer  threw  a  searching  glance  upon  her 
for  a  moment;  but  there  was  no  satire  in  the  warm, 
soft  eyes  which  met  his  own  with  a  luxurious  contem- 
plative interest. 

"Say  some  more  of  it  to  me,"  she  continued,  in  a 
voice  not  far  removed  from  coaxing. 

After  some  hesitation  the  subject  returned  again  to 
his  lips,  and  he  said  some  more — indeed,  much  more; 
Lady  Constantine  often  throwing  in  an  appreciative 
remark  or  question,  oftener  meditatively  regarding 
him,  in  pursuance  of  ideas  not  exactly  based  on  his 
words,  and  letting  him  go  on  as  he  would. 

Before  he  left  the  house  the  new  astronomical  pro- 
ject was  set  in  train.  The  top  of  the  column  was  to 
be  roofed  in,  to  form  a  proper  observatory;  and  on  the 
ground  that  he  knew  better  than  any  one  else  how  this 
was  to  be  carried  out,  she  requested  him  to  give  pre- 
cise directions  on  the  point,  and  to  superintend  the 
whole.  A  wooden  cabin  was  to  be  erected  at  the  foot 
of  the    'vwer,  to  provide  better  accommodation   for 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  55 

casual  visitors  to  the  observatory  than  the  spiral  stair- 
case and  lead-flat  afforded.  As  this  cabin  would  be 
completely  buried  in  the  dense  pine  foliage  which  en- 
veloped the  lower  part  of  the  column  and  its  pedestal, 
it  would  be  no  disfigurement  to  the  general  appear- 
ance. Finally,  a  path  was  to  be  made  across  the  sur- 
rounding fallow,  by  which  she  might  easily  approach 
the  scene  of  her  new  study. 

When  he  was  gone  she  wrote  to  the  firm  of  opticians 
concerning  the  equatorial  for  whose  reception  all  this 
was  designed. 

The  undertaking  was  soon  in  full  progress;  and  by 
degrees  it  became  the  talk  of  the  hamlets  round  that 
Lady  Constantine  had  given  up  melancholy  for  astron- 
omy, to  the  great  advantage  of  all  who  came  in  con- 
tact with  her.  One  morning,  when  Tabitha  Lark  had 
come  as  usual  to  read.  Lady  Constantine  chanced  to 
be  in  a  quarter  of  the  house  to  which  she  seldom  wan- 
dered; and  while  here  she  heard  her  maid  talking  con- 
fidentially to  Tabitha  in  the  adjoining  room  on  the 
curious  and  sudden  interest  which  Lady  Constantine 
had  acquired  in  the  moon  and  stars. 

"They  do  say  all  sorts  of  trumpery,"  observed  the 
hand-maid.  "They  say — though  'tis  little  better  than 
mischief,  to  be  sure — that  it  isn't  the  moon,  and  it 
isn't  the  stars,  and  it  isn't  the  plannards,  that  my  lady 
cares  for,  but  for  the  pretty  lad  who  draws  'em  down 
from  the  sky  to  please  her;  and  being  a  married  ex- 
ample, and  what  with  sin  and  shame  knocking  at  every 
poor  maid's  door  afore  you  can  say,  *  Hands  off,  my 
dear,'  to  the  civilest  young  man,  she  ought  to  set  a 
better  pattern." 

Lady  Constantine's  face  flamed  up  vividly. 

"  If  Sir  Blount  were  to  come  back  all  of  a  sudden — 
oh  my!" 

Lady  Constantine  grew  cold  as  ice. 

"There's  nothing  in  it,"  said  Tabitha,  scornfully.  "I 
could  prove  it  any  day.' 

"Well,  I  wish  I  had  half  her  chance!"  sighed  the 
lady's  maid.  And  no  more  was  said  on  the  subject 
then. 


5<5  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

Tabitha's  remarks  showed  that  the  suspicion  was 
quite  an  embryo  one  as  yet.  Nevertheless,saying  nothing 
to  reveal  what  she  had  overheard,  immediately  aftei" 
the  reading  Lady  Constantine  flew  like  a  bird  to  where 
she  knew  that  Swithin  might  be  found.  He  was  in 
the  plantation,  sticking  up  little  sticks  to  mark  where 
the  wooden  cabin  was  to  stand.  She  called  him  to  a 
remote  place  under  the  funereal  trees.  "  I  have  al- 
tered my  mind,"  she  said.  "  I  can  have  nothing  to  do 
with  this  matter." 

"  Indeed?"  said  Swithin,   surprised. 

"Astronomy  is  not  my  hobby  any  longer.  And  you 
are  not  my  Astronomer-Royal." 

"  Oh,  Lady  Constantine!"  cried  the  youth,  aghast. 
"Why  ;  the  work  is  begun.  I  thought  the  equatorial 
was  ordered." 

She  dropped  her  voice,  though  there  was  nobody  to 
hear  even  a  Jericho  shout.  "Of  course  astronomy  is 
my  hobby  privately,  and  you  are  to  be  my  Astrono- 
mer-Royal, and  I  still  furnish  the  observatory ;  but 
not  to  the  outer  world.  There  is  a  reason  against  my 
indulgence  in  such  scientific  fancies  openly;  and  the 
project  must  be  arranged  in  this  wise.  The  whole  en- 
terprise is  yours;  you  rent  the  tower  of  me;  you  build 
the  cabin;  you  get  the  equatorial.  I  simply  give  per- 
mission, since  you  desire  it.  The  path  that  was  to  be 
made  from  the  hill  to  the  park  is  net  to  be  thought  of. 
There  is  to  be  no  communication  between  the  house 
and  the  column.  The  equatorial  will  arrive  addressed 
to  you,  and  its  cost  I  will  pay  through  you.  My  name 
must  not  appear,  and  I  vanish  entirely  from  the  un- 
dertaking. .  .  .  This  blind  is  necessary,"  she  added, 
sighing.     "  Good-by." 

"  But  you  do  take  as  much  interest  as  before,  and  it 
ivill  be  yours  just  the  same  ?  "  he  said,  walking  after 
her.  He  scarcely  comprehended  the  subterfuge,  and 
was  absolutely  blind  as  to  its  reason. 

"  Can  you  doubt  it  ?     But  I  dare  not  do  it  openly." 

With  this  she  went  away;  and  in  due  time  there  cir- 
culated through  the  parish  an  assertion  that  it  was  a 
mistake  to  suppose  Lady  Constaniine  had  anything  to 


TPVO  OAT  A    TOWER.  57 

do  with  Swithin  St.  Cleeve  or  his  star-gazing  schemes. 
She  had  merely  allowed  him  to  rent  the  tower  of  her 
for  use  as  his  observatory,  and  to  put  some  temporary 
fixtures  on  it  for  that  purpose. 

After  this  Lady  Constantine  lapsed  into  her  former 
life  of  loneliness;  and  by  these  prompt  measures  the 
ghost  of  a  rumor  which  had  barely  started  into  exist- 
ence was  speedily  laid  to  rest.  It  had  probably  origi- 
nated in  her  own  house,  and  had  gone  out  little  further. 
Yet,  despite  her  self-control,  a  certain  north  window 
of  the  Great  House,  that  commanded  an  uninterrupted 
view  of  the  upper  ten  feet  of  the  column,  revealed  her 
as  somewhat  frequently  gazing  from  it  at  a  rotundity 
which  had  begun  to  appear  on  the  summit.  To  those 
v/ith  whom  she  came  in  contact  she  sometimes  ad- 
dressed such  remarks  as:  "  Is  young  Mr.  St.  Cleeve 
getting  on  with  his  observatory  ?  I  hope  he  will 
fix  his  instruments  without  damaging  the  column, 
which  is  so  interesting  to  us  as  being  in  memory  of 
my  dear  husband's  great-grandfather — a  truly  brave 
man." 

On  one  occasion  her  building-steward  ventured  to 
suggest  to  her  that.  Sir  Blount  having  deputed  to  her 
the  power  to  grant  short  leases  in  his  absence,  she 
should  have  a  distinctive  agreement  with  Swithin,  as 
between  landlord  and  tenant,  with  a  stringent  clause 
against  his  driving  nails  into  the  stone-work  of  such  a 
historical  memorial.  She  replied  that  she  did  not  wish 
to  be  severe  on  the  last  representative  of  such  old  and 
respected  parishioners  as  his  mother's  family  had  been, 
and  of  such  a  well-descended  family  as  his  father's;  so 
that  it  would  only  be  necessary  for  the  steward  to 
keep  an  eye  on  Mr.  St.  Cleeve's  doings. 

Further,  when  a  letter  arrived  at  the  Great  House 
from  Hilton  and  Pimm's,  the  opticians,  with  informa- 
tion that  the  equatorial  was  ready  and  packed,  and 
that  a  man  would  be  sent  with  it  to  fix  it,  she  replied 
to  that  firm  to  the  effect  that  their  letter  should  have 
been  addressed  to  Mr.  St.  Cleeve,  the  local  astrono- 
mer, on  whose  behalf  she  had  made  the  inquiries;  that 
she  had  nothing  more  to  do  with  the  matter:  that  he 


S8  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

would  receive  the  instrument  and  pay  the  bill, — her 
guarantee  being  given  for  the  latter  performance. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

T  ADY  CONSTANTINE  then  had  the  pleasure  of 
beholding  a  wagon,  laden  with  packing-cases,  in 
the  act  of  crossing  the  field  towards  the  pillar;  and  not 
many  days  later  Swithin,  who  had  never  come  to  the 
Great  House  since  the  luncheon,  met  her  in  a  path 
which  he  knew  to  be  one  of  her  promenades. 

"  The  equatorial  is  fixed,  and  the  man  gone,"  he 
said,  half  in  doubt  as  to  his  speech,  for  her  com- 
mands to  him  not  to  recognize  her  agency  or  patron- 
age still  puzzled  him.  "  I  respectfully  wish — you 
could  come  and  see  it,  Lady  Constantine." 

"  I  would  rather  not  ;  I  cannot." 

''  Saturn  is  lovely  ;  Jupiter  is  simply  sublime  ;  I  can 
see  double  stars  in  the  Lion  and  Virgin  where  I  had 
seen  only  a  single  one  before.  It  is  all  I  required  to 
set  me  going  !  " 

"  Is  it  so  ?  I'll  come — but  you  need  say  nothing 
about  my  visit.  I  cannot  come  to  night,  but  will  come 
some  time  this  week.  Yet  only  this  once,  to  try  the 
instrument.  Afterwards  you  must  be  content  to  pur- 
sue your  studies  alone." 

Swithin  seemed  but  little  affected  at  this  announce- 
ment. "  Hilton  and  Pimm's  man  handed  me  the  bill." 
he  continued. 

"  How  much  is  it?" 

He  told  her.  "  And  the  man  who  has  built  the  hut 
and  dome,  and  done  other  fixing,  has  sent  in  his."  He 
named  this  amount  also. 

"  Very  well.  They  shall  be  settled  with.  My  debts 
must  be  paid  with  my  money,  which  you  shall  have  at 
once — in  cash,  since  a  check  would  hardly  do.  Come 
to  the  house  for  it  this  evening.  But  no,  no  ! — you 
must  not  come  openly ;  such  is  the  world.  Come 
to  the  window — the  window  that  is  exactly  in  a  line 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  59 

with  the  long  snow-drop  bed,  in  the  south  front — at 
eight  to-night,  and  I  will  give  you  what  is  necessary." 

"Certainly,"  said  the  young  man.  respectfully. 

At  eight  that  evening,  accordingly,  Swithin  entered 
like  a  ghost  upon  the  terrace  to  seek  out  the  spot  she 
had  designated.  The  equatorial  had  so  entirely  ab- 
sorbed his  thoughts  ihat  he  did  not  trouble  himself 
seriously  to  conjecture  the  why  and  wherefore  of  her 
secrecy.  If  he  casually  thought  of  it,  he  set  it  down 
in  a  general  way  to  an  intensely  generous  wish  on  her 
part  not  to  lessen  his  influence  among  the  sparse  in- 
habitants by  making  him  appear  the  object  of  patron- 
age. 

While  he  stood  by  the  long  snow-drop  bed,  which 
looked  up  at  him  like  another  Milky  Way,  the  French 
casement  of  the  window  opposite  softly  opened,  and  a 
hand  bordered  by  a  glimmer  of  lace  was  stretched 
forth,  from  which  he  received  a  crisp  little  parcel — 
bank  notes,  apparently.  He  knew  the  hand,  and  held 
it  long  enough  to  press  it  to  his  lips,  the  only  form 
which  had  ever  occurred  to  him  of  expressing  his 
gratitude  to  her  without  the  incumbrance  of  clumsy 
words — a  vehicle  at  the  best  of  times  but  rudely 
suited  for  such  delicate  merchandise.  The  hand  was 
hastily  withdrawn,  as  if  the  treatment  had  been  un- 
expected. Then  seemingly  moved  by  second  thoughts, 
she  bent  forward  and  said  :  "  Is  the  night  good  for  ob- 
servations ? " 

"Perfect." 

"Then  I'll  come  to-night  ;  it  makes  no  difference  to 
me,  after  all.     Wait  just  one  moment." 

He  waited,  and  presently  she  emerged,  muffled  up 
like  a  nun  ;  whereupon  they  left  the  terrace  and  struck 
across  the  park  together.  Very  little  was  said  by 
either  till  they  were  crossing  the  fallow,  when  he 
asked  her  if  his  arm  would  help  her.  She  did  not 
take  the  offered  support  just  then  ;  but  when  they 
were  ascending  under  the  heavy  gloom  of  fir  trees  she 
seized  it,  as  if  rather  i.illuenced  by  the  oppressive  soli- 
tude than  by  fatigue. 

Thus  they  reached  the  foot  of  the  column,  ten  thous- 


^O  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

and  spirits  in  prison  seeming  to  grasp  their  griefs 
from  the  funeral  boughs  overhead,  and  a  few  twigs 
scratching  the  pillar  with  the  drag  of  impish  claws  as 
tenacious  as  those  figuring  in  St.  Anthony's  tempta- 
tion. 

"  How  intensely  dark  it  is  just  here,"  she  whispered. 
"I  wonder  you  can  Iveep  in  the  path.  Many  ancient 
Britons  lie  buried  here,  doubtless." 

He  led  her  round  to  the  other  side,  where,  feeling 
with  his  hands,  he  suddenly  left  her,  appearing  a  mo- 
ment after  with  a  light. 

"What  place  is  this?"  she  exclaimed. 

"This  is  the  cabin,"  said  he;  and  she  could  just 
discern  the  outline  of  a  little  house,  not  unlike  a  bath- 
ing-machine without  wheels.  "I  have  kept  lights 
ready  here,  as  I  thought  you  might  come  any  evening, 
and  possibly  bring  company." 

"Don't  quarrel  with  me  for  coming  alone!"  she  ex- 
claimed, with  sensitive  promptness.  "There  are 
reasons  for  what  I  do  of  which  you  know  nothing." 

"Perhaps  it  is  much  to  my  discredit  that  I  don't 
know." 

"  Not  at  all.  You  are  all  the  better  for  it.  God  for- 
bid that  I  should  enlighten  you.  Well,  I  see  this  is 
the  hut.  But  I  am  more  curious  to  go  to  the  top,  and 
make  discoveries." 

He  brought  a  little  lantern  from  the  cabin,  and 
lighted  her  up  the  winding  staircase  to  the  temple  of 
that  sublime  mystery  on  whose  threshold  he  stood  as 
priest.  The  top  of  the  column  was  quite  changed. 
The  tub-shaped  space  within  the  parapet,  formerly 
open  to  the  air  and  sun,  was  now  arched  over  by  a 
light  dome  of  lath-work  covered  with  felt.  But  this 
dome  was  not  fixed.  At  the  line  where  its  base 
descended  to  the  parapet  there  were  half  a  dozen  iron 
balls,  precisely  like  cannon-shot,  standing  loosely  in  a 
groove,  and  on  these  the  dome  rested  its  whole 
weight.  In  the  side  of  the  dome  was  a  slit,  through 
which  the  wind  blew  and  the  North  Star  beamed,  and 
toward  it  the  end  of  the  great  telescope  was  directed. 
This   latter  magnificent  object,  with  its  circles,  axes, 


TIVO  ON  yt   rOWER.  6l 

and  handles  complete,  was  securely  fixed  in  the  middle 
of  the  floor. 

"But  you  can  only  see  one  part  of  the  sky  through 
that  slit,"  said  she. 

The  astronomer  stretched  out  his  arm,  and  the 
whole  dome  turned  horizontally  round,  running  on 
the  balls  with  a  rumble  like  that  of  near  thunder.  In- 
stead of  the  star  Polaris,  which  had  been  peeping  in 
upon  them  through  the  slit,  there  now  appeared  the 
face  of  Castor  and  Pollux.  Swithin  then  manipulated 
the  equatorial,  and  put  it  through  its  capabilities  in 
like  manner. 

She  was  enchanted;  being  rather  excitable,  she 
even  clapped  her  hands  just  once.  She  turned  to  him: 
"  Now  are  you  happy?" 

"But  it  is  all  yours,  Lady  Constantine." 

"At  this  moment.  But  that's  a  defect  w'hich  can 
soon  be  remedied.     When  is  your  birthday?" 

"Next  month, — the  seventh." 

"Then  it  shall  all  be  yours, — a  birthday  present." 

The  young  man  protested;  it  was  too  much. 

"No,  you  must  accept  it  all, — equatorial,  dome, 
stand,  hut,  and  everything  that  has  been  put  here  for  this 
astronomical  purpose.  The  possession  of  these  appara- 
tus would  only  compromise  me.  Already  they  are  reput- 
ed to  be  yours,  and  they  must  be  made  yours.  There  is 
no  help  for  it.  If  ever"  (here  her  voice  lost  some 
firmness), — "if  ever  you  go  away  from  me — from  this 
place,  I  mean — and  marry,  and  settle  in  a  new  home 
elsewhere  for  good,  you  must  take  these  things, 
equatorial  and  all,  and  never  tell  how  they  came  to  be 
yours." 

"I  wish  I  could  do  something  more  for  you!"  ex- 
claimed the  much-moved  astronomer.  "If  you  could 
but  share  my  fame — supposing  I  get  any,  which  I 
may  die  before  doing — it  would  be  a  little  compensa- 
tion. As  to  my  going  away  and  marrying,  I  cer- 
tainly shall  not.  I  may  go  away,  but  I  shall  never 
marry." 

"Why  not?" 

"A  beloved  science  is  enough  wife  for  me — com- 


62  TWO  ON  ^    rOWER. 

bined,  perhaps,  with  a  little  warm  friendship  with  one 
of  kindred  pursuits." 

"Who  is  the  friend?" 

"  Yourself  I  should  like  it  to  be." 

"You  would  have  to  become  a  woman  before  I 
could  be  that,  publicly  ;  or  I  a  man,"  she  replied,  with 
dry  melancholy. 

"  Why  a  woman,  dear  Lady  Constantine  ?  " 

"I  cannot  explain.  No  ;  you  must  keep  your  fame 
and  your  science  all  to  yourself,  and  I  must  keep  my 
— troubles." 

Swithin,  to  divert  her  from  melancholy — not  know- 
ing that  in  the  expression  of  her  melancholy  thus  and 
now  she  found  much  pleasure — changed  the  subject 
by  asking  if  they  should  take  some  observations. 

"  Yes  ;  the  scenery  is  well  hung  to-night,"  she  said, 
looking  out  upon  the  heavens. 

Then  they  proceded  to  scan  the  sky,  roving  from 
planet  to  star,  from  single  stars  to  double  stars,  from 
double  to  colored  stars,  in  the  cursory  manner  of  the 
merely  curious.  They  plunged  down  to  that  at  other 
times  invisible  stellar  multitude  in  the  back  rows  of 
the  celestial  theater  :  remote  layers  of  constellations 
whose  shapes  were  new  and  singular  ;  pretty  twinklers 
which  for  infinite  ages  had  spent  their  beams  without 
calling  forth  from  a  single  poet  a  single  line,  or  being 
able  to  bestow  a  ray  of  comfort  on  a  single  benighted 
traveler. 

"And  to  think,"  said  Lady  Constantine,  "that  the 
whole  race  of  shepherds,  since  the  beginning  of  the 
world — even  those  immortal  shepherds  who  watched 
near  Bethlehem — should  have  gone  into  their  graves 
without  knowing  that  for  one  star  that  lighted  them 
in  their  labors  there  were  ten  as  good  behind  trying 
to  do  so  !  ...  I  have  a  feeling  for  this  instrument  not 
unlike  the  awe  I  should  feel  in  the  presence  of  a  great 
magician  in  whom  I  really  believed.  Its  powers  are 
so  enormous,  and  weird,  and  fantastical,  that  I  should 
have  a  personal  fear  in  being  with  it  alone.  Music 
drew  an  angel  down,  said  the  poet ;  but  what  is  that 
to  drawing  down  worlds  !  " 


TIVO  ON  A    TOWER,  ^l 

"I  often  experience  a  kind  of  fear  of  the  sky  aftei 
sitting  in  the  observing  chair  a  longtime.  And  when 
I  walk  home  afterwards  I  fear  it,  for  what  I  know  is 
there,  but  cannot  see,  as  one  naturally  fears  the  pres- 
ence of  a  vast  something  that  only  reveals  a  very 
little  of  itself.  That's  partly  what  I  meant  by  saying 
that  magnitude,  which  up  to  a  certain  point  has 
grandeur  has  beyond  it  ghastliness." 

Thus  the  interest  of  their  sidereal  observations  led 
them  on,  till  the  knowledge  that  scarce  any  other  hu- 
man vision  w^as  traveling  within  a  hundred  million 
miles  of  their  own  gave  them  such  a  sense  of  the  iso- 
lation of  that  faculty  as  almost  to  be  a  sense  of  isola- 
tion as  regarded  their  whole  personality,  causing  a 
shudder  at  its  absoluteness.  At  night,  when  human 
discords  and  harmonies  are  hushed,  in  a  general  sense, 
for  the  greater  part  of  12  hours,  there  is  nothing  to 
moderate  the  blow  with  which  the  infinitely  great,  the 
stellar  universe,  strikes  down  upon  the  infinitely  little, 
the  mind  of  the  beholder  ;  and  this  was  the  case  now. 
Having  got  closer  to  immensity  than  their  fellow- 
creatures,  they  saw  at  once  its  beauty  and  its  fright- 
fulness.  They  more  and  more  felt  the  contrast  be- 
tween their  own  tiny  magnitudes  and  those  among 
which  they  had  recklessly  plunged,  till  they  were  op- 
pressed with  the  presence  of  a  vastness  they  could  not 
cope  with  even  as  an  idea,  which  hung  about  them 
like  a  nightmare. 

He  stood  by  her  while  she  observed  ;  she  by  him 
when  they  changed  places.  Once  that  Swithin's 
emancipation  from  a  trammeling  body  had  been 
effected  by  the  telescope,  and  he  was  well  away  in 
space,  she  felt  her  influence  over  him  diminishing  to 
nothing.  He  was  quite  unconscious  of  his  terrestrial 
neighbo rings,  and  of  herself  as  one  of  them.  It  still 
farther  reduced  her  toward  simplicity. 

The  silence  was  broken  only  by  the  ticking  of  the 
.  clock-work  which  gave  diurnal  motion   to   the  instru- 
ment.    To  expect  that  he  was  ever  voluntarily  going 
to   end   the   pause  by    speech  was  apparently    futile. 
She  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm.     He  started,  withdrew 


64  •  TWO  ON  A   rOlVER. 

his  eye  from  the  telescope,  and  brought  himself  back 
from  the  earth  by  a  visible  effort. 

"  Do  come  out  of  it  ! "  she  coaxed,  with  a  softness  in 
her  voice  which  any  man  but  Swithin  would  have  felt 
to  be  exquisite.  "  I  feel  that  I  have  been  so  foolish  as 
to  put  in  your  hands  an  instrument  to  effect  my  own 
annihilation.  Not  a  word  have  you  spoken  for  this 
last  ten  minutes." 

"  I  have  been  mentally  getting  on  with  my  great 
theory.  I  hope  soon  to  be  able  to  publish  it  to  the 
world.  What,  are  you  going  ?  I  will  walk  with  you, 
Lady  Constantine.     When  will  you  come  again  ?" 

"When  your  great  theory  is  published  to  the 
world." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

T  ADY  CONSTANTINE,  if  narrowly  observed  at  this 
time,  would  have  seemed  to  be  deeply  troubled  in 
conscience,  and  particularly  after  the  interview  above 
described.  Ash-Wednesday  occurred  in  the  calender  a 
few  days  later,  and  she  went  to  morning  service  with  a 
look  of  genuine  contrition  on  her  emotional  and  yearn- 
ing countenance.  Besides  herself  the  congregation 
consisted  only  of  the  parson,  clerk,  school-children, 
and  three  old  people  living  on  aim';,  who  sat  under  the 
reading-desk  ;  and  thus,  when  Mr.  Torkingham  blazed 
forth  the  denunciatory  sentences  of  the  Commination, 
the  whole  force  of  them  seemed  to  descend  upon  her 
own  shoulders.  Looking  across  the  empty  pews,  she 
saw  through  the  one  or  two  clear  panes  of  the  window 
opposite  a  figure  in  the  church-yard,  and  the  very 
feeling  against  which  she  had  tried  to  pray  came  back 
again.  When  she  came  out  and  had  crossed  into  the 
private  walk,  Swithin  came  forward  to  speak  to  her. 
This  was  a  most  unusual  circumstance,  and  argued  a 
matter  of  importance. 

"  I  have  made  an  amazing  discovery  in  connection 
with  the  variable  stars  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  It  will 
excite  the  whole  astronomical  world,  and  the  worM 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER,  65 

outside  but  little  less.  I  had  long  suspected  the  true 
secret  of  their  variability  ;  but  it  was  by  the  merest 
chance  on  earth  that  I  hit  upon  a  proof  of  my  guess. 
Your  equatorial  has  done  it,  my  good,  kind  Lady  Con- 
stantine,  and  our  fame  is  established  forever  !  "  He 
sprang  into  the  air,  and  waved  his  hat  in  his  triumph. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad — so  rejoiced!"  she  cried. 
"What  is  it?  But  don't  stop  to  tell  me.  Publish  it  at 
once  in  some  paper  ;  nail  your  name  to  it,  or  somebody 
will  seize  the  idea  and  appropriate  it — forestall  you 
in  some  way.  It  will  be  Adams  and  Leverrier  over 
again." 

"  If  I  may  walk  with  you  I  will  explain  the  nature 
of  the  discovery.  It  accounts  for  the  occasional  green 
tint  of  Castor  and  every  difficulty.  I  said  I  would  be 
the  Copernicus  of  the  stellar  system,  and  I  have  begun 
to  be.     Yet  who  knows  ?  " 

"  Now  don't  be  so  up  and  down  !  I  shall  not  under- 
stand your  explanation,  and  I  would  rather  not  know 
it.  I  shall  reveal  it  if  it  is  very  grand.  Women,  you 
know,  are  not  safe  depositaries  of  such  valuable  secrets. 
You  may  walk  with  me  a  little  way,  with  great  pleas- 
ure. Then  go  and  write  your  account,  so  as  to  insure 
your  ownership  of  the  discovery.  .  .  .Buthow3'ou 
have  watched  !  "  she  cried,  in  a  sudden  accession  of 
anxiety,  as  she  turned  to  look  more  closely  at  him. 
"The  orbits  of  your  ej'es  are  leaden,  and  your  eyelids 
are  red  and  heavy.  Don't  do  it — pray  don't  !  You 
will  be  ill,  and  break  down." 

"  I  have,  it  is  true,  been  up  a  little  late  this  last 
week,"  he  said,  cheerfully.  "  In  fact,  I  couldn't  tear 
myself  away  from  the  equatorial;  it  is  such  a  wonder- 
ful possession  that  it  keeps  me  there  till  daylight. 
But  what  does  that  matter,  now  I  have  made  the  dis- 
covery?" 

"Ah,  it  does  matter!  Now,  promise  me — I  insist — 
that  you  will  not  commit  such  imprudences  again; 
for  what  should  I  do  if  my  Astronomer-Royal  were  to 
die  ?"  She  laughed,  but  far  too  apprehensively  to  be 
effective  as  a  display  of  levity. 

They  parted^  and   he  went  home  to  write  out  his 

5 


66  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

paper.  He  promised  to  call  as  soon  as  his  discovery- 
was  in  print.     Then  they  waited  for  the  result. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  tremulous  state  of  La- 
dy Constantine  during  the  interval.  The  warm  interest 
she  took  in  Swithin  St.  Cleeve — many  would  have 
said  dangerously  warm  interest — made  his  hopes  her 
hopes;  and  though  she  sometimes  admitted  to  herself 
that  great  allowance  was  requisite  for  the  overween- 
ing confidence  of  youth  in  the  future,  she  permitted 
herself  to  be  blinded  to  probabilities  for  the  pleasure 
of  sharing  his  dreams.  It  seemed  not  unreasonable  to 
suppose  the  present  hour  to  be  the  beginning  of  reali- 
zation to  her  darling  wish  that  this  young  man  should 
become  famous.  He  had  worked  hard,  and  why 
should  he  not  be  famous  early?  His  very  simplicity 
in  mundane  affairs  afforded  a  strong  presumption  that 
in  things  celestial  he  might  be  wise.  To  obtain  sup- 
port for  this  hypothesis  she  only  had  to  think  over 
the  lives  of  many  eminent  astronomers. 

She  waited  patiently  for  the  flourish  of  trumpets 
from  afar,  by  which  she  expected  the  announcement  of 
his  discovery  to  be  greeted.  Knowing  that  immediate 
intelligence  of  the  outburst  would  be  brought  to  her 
by  himself,  she  watched  from  the  windows  of  the 
Great  House  each  morning  for  a  sight  of  his  figure 
hastening  down  the  glade.     But  he  did  not  come. 

A  long  array  of  wet  days  passed  their  dreary  shapes 
before  her,  and  made  the  waiting  still  more  tedious. 
On  one  of  these  occasions  she  ran  across  to  the  tower, 
at  the  risk  of  a  severe  cold.  The  door  was  locked 
still.  But  this  was  only  to  be  expected  in  such 
weather.  Yet  she  would  have  gone  on  to  his  house, 
had  there  not  been  one  reason  too  many  against  such 
precipitancy.  As  astronomer  and  astronomer  there 
was  no  harm  in  their  meetings;  but  as  woman  and 
man  she  feared  them — for  herself,  at  any  rate. 

Ten  days  passed  without  a  sight  of  him;  ten  blurred 
and  dreary  days,  during  which  the  whole  landscape 
dripped  like  a  mop,  and  the  park  trees  swabbed  the 
gravel  from  the  drive,  while  the  sky  was  lined  with  a 
thick  vault  of  immovable  cloud.     It  seemed  as  if  the 


TJVO  ON  A    TO  WER.  67 

whole  science  of  astronomy  had  never  been  real,  and 
that  the  heavenly  bodies,  with  their  motions,  were  as 
theoretical  as  the  moves  and  pieces  at  a  bygone  game 
of  chess. 

She  could  content  herself  no  longer  with  fruitless 
visits  to  the  column,  and  when  the  rain  had  a  little 
abated  she  walked  to  the  nearest  hamlet,  and  in  a  con- 
versation with  the  first  old  woman  she  met  contrived 
to  lead  up  to  the  subject  of  Swithin  St.  Cleeve,  by  talk- 
ing about  his  grandmother. 

"Ah,  poor  old  heart;  't  is  a  bad  time  for  her,  my 
lady!"  exclaimed  the  dame. 

"Why?" 

"  Her  grandson  is  dying  ;  and  such  a  gentleman 
born!" 

"  Oh,  it  has  something  to  do  with  that  terrible  dis- 
covery !" 

"What,  my  lady?" 

She  left  the  old  woman  with  an  evasive  answer,  and 
with  a  breaking  heart  crept  along  the  road.  Tears 
brimmed  into  her  eyes  as  she  walked,  and  by  the  time 
that  she  was  out  of  sight  sobs  burst  forth  tumultu- 
ously.  "I  am  too  fond  of  him,  but  I  can't  help  it,  and 
I  don't  care — I  don't  care!" 

Without  further  considerations  as  to  who  beheld 
her  doings,  she  instinctively  went  straight  toward  Mrs. 
Martin's.  Seeing  a  man  coming,  she  calmed  herself 
sufficiently  to  ask  him  through  her  dropped  veil  how 
poor  Mr.  St.  Cleeve  was  that  day.  But  she  only  got 
the  same  reply:  "They  say  he  is  dying,  my  lady." 

When  Swithin  had  parted  from  Lady  Constantinc, 
on  the  previous  Ash-Wednesday,  he  had  gone  straight 
to  the  homestead  and  prepared  his  account  of  a  New 
Astronomical  Discovjery.  It  was  written  perhaps  in 
too  glowing  a  rhetoric  for  the  true  scientific  tone  of 
mind;  but  there  was  nr  doubt  that  his  assertion  met 
with  a  most  startling  aptness  all  the  difficulties  which 
had  accompanied  the  received  theories  on  the  plie- 
nomena  attending  those  marvelous  suns  of  marvelous 
systems  so  far  away.     It  accounted  for  the  nebulous 


68  TWO  ON  A   TO  WEE. 

mist  that  surrounds  some  of  them  at  their  weakest 
time;  in  short,  took  up  a  position  of  probability, 
which  has  never  yet  been  assailed. 

The  papers  were  written  in  triplicate,  and  carefully 
sealed  up  with  blue  wax.  One  copy  was  directed  to 
Greenwich,  another  to  the  Royal  Society,  another  to  a 
prominent  astronomer.  A  brief  statement  of  the  es- 
sence of  the  discovery  was  also  prepared  for  the  lead- 
ing dail}^  paper. 

He  considered  these  documents,  embodying  as  they 
did,  two  years  of  his  constant  thought,  reading,  and 
observation,  too  important  to  be  entrusted  for  posting 
to  the  hands  of  a  messenger;  too  important  to  be  sent  to 
the  sub-post-oflfice  at  hand.  Though  the  day  was  wet, 
dripping  wet,  he  went  on  foot  with  them  to  the  chief 
office,  five  miles  off,  and  registered  them.  Quite  ex- 
hausted by  the  walk,  after  his  long  night-work,  wet 
through,  yet  sustained  by  the  sense  of  a  great  achieve- 
ment, he  called  at  a  bookseller's  for  the  astronomical 
periodicals  to  which  he  subscribed;  then,  resting  a 
short  time  at  an  inn,  he  plodded  his  way  homeward, 
reading  his  papers  as  he  went,  and  planning  how  to 
enjoy  a  repose,  on  his  laurels,  of  a  week  or  more. 

On  he  strolled  through  the  rain,  holding  the  um- 
brella vertically  over  the  exposed  page  to  keep  it  dry 
while  he  read.  Suddenly  his  eye  was  struck  by  an 
article.  It  was  the  review  of  a  pamphlet  by  an  Ameri- 
can astronomer,  in  which  the  author  announced  a  con- 
clusive discovery  with  regard  to  variable  stars. 

The  discovery  was  precisely  the  discovery  of  Swithin 
St.  Cleeve.  Another  man  had  forestalled  his  fame  by 
a  period  of  about  six  weeks. 

Then  the  youth  found  that  the  goddess  Philosophy, 
to  whom  he  had  vowed  to  dedicate  his  whole  life, 
would  not,  in  return,  support  him  through  a  single  hour 
of  despair.  In  truth,  the  impishness  of  circumstances 
was  newer  to  him  than  it  would  have  been  to  a  philoso- 
pher of  three  score  and  ten.  In  a  wild  wish  for  anni- 
hilation he  flung  himself  down  on  a  patch  of  heather 
that  lay  a  little  removed  from  the  road,  and  in  this 
watery  bed  remained  motionless,  while  time  passed 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER,  69 

by  unheeded.  At  last,  from  sheer  misery  and  weari- 
ness, he  fell  asleep.  The  March  rain  pelted  him  mer- 
cilessly, the  beaded  moisture  from  the  heavily  charged 
locks  of  heath  penetrated  him  through  back  and  sides, 
and  clotted  his  hair  to  unsightly  tags  and  tufts.  When 
he  awoke  it  was  dark.  He  thought  of  his  grand- 
mother, and  of  her  possible  alarm  at  missing  him. 
On  attempting  to  rise,  he  found  that  he  could  hardly 
bend  his  joints,  and  that  his  clothes  were  as  heavy  as 
lead  from  saturation.  His  teeth  chattering  and  his 
knees  trembling,  he  pursued  his  way  home,  where  his 
appearance  excited  great  concern.  He  was  obliged  at 
once  to  retire  to  bed,  and  the  next  day  he  was  deliri- 
ous from  the  chill. 

It  was  about  ten  days  after  this  unhappy  occurrertce 
that  Lady  Constantine  learned  the  news,  as  above  des- 
cribed, and  hastened  along  to  the  homestead  in  that 
state  of  anguish  in  which  the  heart  is  no  longer  under 
the  control  of  the  judgment,  and  self-abandonment, 
even  to  error,  verges  on  heroism.  On  reaching  the 
house  in  Rings-Hill  Bottom,  the  door  was  opened  to 
her  by  old  Hannah  who  wore  an  assiduously  sorrow- 
ful look;  and  Lady  Constantine  was  shown  into  the 
large  room — so  wide  that  the  beams  bent  in  the  mid- 
dle— where  she  took  her  seat  in  one  of  a  methodic 
range  of  chairs,  beneath  a  portrait  of  the  Reverend 
Mr.  St.  Cleeve,  her  astronomer's  erratic  father. 

The  eight  unwatered  plants,  in  the  row  of  eight 
flower-pots,  denoted  that  there  was  something  wrong 
in  the  house.  Mrs.  Martin  came  down  stairs,  fretting, 
her  wonder  at  beholding  Lady  Constantine  not  alto- 
gether displacing  the  previous  mood.  "  Here's  a  pretty 
kettle  of  fish,  my  lady!"  she  exclaimed. 

Lady  Constantine  said:  "  Husli!"  and  pointed  inquir- 
ingly upward. 

"  He  is  not  overhead,  my  lady,"  replied  Swithin's 
grandmother.  "  His  bedroom  is  at  the  back  of  the 
house." 

"  How  is  he  now  ?" 

"He  is  better,  just  at  this  moment;  and  we  are  more 
hopeful.     But  he  changes  so." 


70  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

"  May  I  go  up  ?     I  know  he  would  like  to  see  me." 

Her  presence  having  been  made  known  to  the  suf- 
ferer, she  was  conducted  up-stairs  to  Swithin's  room. 
The  way  thither  was  through  the  large  chamber  he 
had  used  as  a  study  and  for  the  manufacture  of  opti- 
cal instruments.  There  lay  the  large  pasteboard  tel-_ 
escope,  that  had  been  just  such  a  failure  as  Crusoe's 
large  boat;  there  were  his  diagrams,  maps,  globes, 
and  celestial  apparatus  of  various  sorts.  The  absence 
of  the  worker  through  illness  or  death  is  sufficient  to 
touch  the  prosiest  workshop  with  the  hues  of  pathetic 
romance,  and  it  was  with  a  swelling  bosom  that  Lady 
Constantine  passed  through  this  arena  of  his  youth- 
ful activities  to  the  little  chamber  where  he  lay. 

Old  Mrs.  Martin  sat  down  by  the  window,  and  Lady 
Constantine  bent  over  Swithin. 

"  Don't  speak  to  me!"  she  whispered.  "  It  will 
weaken  you  ;  it  will  excite  you.  If  you  do  speak,  it 
must  be  very  softly."  She  took  his  hand,  and  one 
irrepressible  tear  fell  upon  it. 

"  Nothing  will  excite  me  now.  Lady  Constantine," 
he  said  ;  "  not  even  your  goodness  in  coming.  My  last 
excitement  was  when  I  lost  the  battle.  .  .  .  Do  you 
know  that  my  last  discovery  has  been  forestalled  ?  It 
is  that  that  is  killing  me." 

"  But  you  are  going  to  recover;  you  are  better,  they 
say.     Is  it  so  ?" 

"  I  think  I  am,  to-day.     But  who  can  be  sure?" 

"  The  poor  boy  was  so  upset  at  finding  that  his 
labor  was  thrown  away,"  said  his  grandmother,  "  that 
he  lay  down  in  the  rain,  and  chilled  his  life  out." 

"  How  could  you  do  it  ?"  Lady  Constantine  whis- 
pered. "  How  could  you  think  so  much  of  renown, 
and  so  little  of  me  ?  Why,  for  every  discovery  made 
there  are  ten  behind  that  await  making.  To  commit 
suicide  like  this,  as  if  there  were  nobody  in  the  world  to 
care  for  you." 

"  It  was  done  in  my  haste,  and  I  am  very,  sorry  for 
it!  I  beg  both  you  and  all  my  few  friends  never, 
never  to  forgive  me!  It  would  kill  me  with  self-re- 
proach if  you  were  to  pardon  my  rashness!" 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  7 1 

At  this  moment  the  doctor  was  announced,  and  Mrs. 
Martin  went  down-stairs  to  receive  him.  Lady  Con- 
stantine  thought  she  would  remain  to  hear  his  report, 
and  for  this  purpose  came  out,  and  sat  down  in  a  nook 
of  the  adjoining  work-room  of  Swithin,  the  doctor 
meeting  her  as  he  passed  through  it  into  the  sick  cham- 
ber. 

He  was  there  during  what  seemed  a  torturingly  long 
time;  but  at  length  he  came  out  to  the  room  she  wait- 
ed in,  and  crossed  it  on  his  way  down-stairs.  She  rose 
and  followed  him  to  the  stair  head. 

"How  is  he?"  she  anxiously  asked.  "Will  he  get 
over  it?" 

The  doctor,  not  knowing  the  depth  of  her  interest 
in  the  patient,  spoke  with  the  blunt  candor  natural 
towards  a  comparatively  indifferent  inquirer.  "  No, 
Lady  Constantine,"  he  replied;  "there's  a  change  for 
the  worse."     And  he  retired  down  the  stairs. 

Scarcely  knowing  what  she  did,  Lady  Constantine 
ran  back  to  Swithin's  side,  flung  herself  upon  the  bed, 
and  in  a  throb  of  sorrow  kissed  him. 


CHAPTER  X. 


T 


HE  placid  inhabitants  of  the  parish  of  Welland, 
including  warbling  wagoners,  lone  shepherds, 
plowmen,  the  blacksmith,  the  carpenter,  the  gardener 
at  the  Great  House,  the  steward  and  agent,  the  par- 
son, clerk,  and  so  on,  were  hourly  expecting  the  an- 
nouncement of  St.  Cleeve's  death.  The  sexton  had 
been  going  to  see  his  brother-in-law,  nine  miles  dis- 
tant, but  promptly  postponed  the  visit  for  a  few  days, 
that  there  might  be  the  regular  professional  hand 
present  to  toll  the  bell  in  a  note  of  due  fullness  and 
solemnity;  an  attempt  by  a  deputy,  on  a  previous  oc- 
casion of  his  absence,  having  degenerated  into  a  mis- 
erable stammering  clang  that  was  a  disgrace  to  the 
parish.  But  Swithin  St.  Cleeve  did  not  decease, 
a    fiict    which,     indeed,    the   habituated      reader   will 


72  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

have  been  well  aware  ever  since  the  rain  came  down 
upon  the  young  man  in  the  twenty-sixth  paragraph  of 
the  ninth  chapter,  and  led  to  his  alarming  illness.  Too 
many  maimed  histories  (such  as  his  would  have  read, 
in  those  circumstances)  are  hourly  enacting  them- 
selves in  this  dun-colored  world  to  justify  the  gratui- 
tous infliction  of  yet  other  mournful  details  concerning 
those 

"  Who  lay  great  bases  for  eternity 
Which  prove  more  short  than  waste  or  ruining." 

How  it  arose  that  he  did  not  die  was  in  this  wise; 
and  his  example  affords  another  instance  of  that  reflex 
rule  of  the  vassal  mind  over  the  sovereign  body, 
which,  operating  so  wonderfully  in  elastic  natures, 
and  more  or  less  in  all,  originally  gave  rise  to  the 
legend  that  the  supremacy  lay  on  the  other  side. 

The  evening  of  the  day  after  the  tender,  despairing 
farewell  kiss  of  Lady  Constantine,  when  he  was  a  lit- 
tle less  weak  than  during  her  visit,  he  lay  with  his 
face  to  the  window.  He  lay  alone,  quiet  and  resigned. 
He  had  been  thinking,  sometimes  of  her  and  other 
friends,  but  chiefly  of  his  lost  discovery.  Although 
nearly  unconscious  at  the  time,  he  had  yet  been  aware 
of  that  kiss,  as  the  delicate  flush  which  followed  it 
upon  his  cheek  would  have  told;  but  he  had  attached 
little  importance  to  it  as  between  woman  and  man. 
Had  he  been  dying  of  love  instead  of  wet  weather, 
perhaps  the  impulsive  act  of  that  handsome  lady 
would  have  been  seized  on  as  a  proof  that  his  love 
was  returned;  as  it  was,  her  kiss  seemed  but  the  evi- 
dence of  a  naturally  demonstrative  kindness,  felt  to- 
ward him  chiefly  because  he  was  believed  to  be  leav- 
ing her  forever. 

The  reds  of  sunset  passed,  as  dusk  drew  on.  Old 
Hannah  came  up-stairs  to  pull  down  the  blinds,  and 
as  she  advanced  to  the  window  he  said  to  her,  in  a 
faint  voice:  "  Well,  Hannah,  what  news  to-day?" 

"  Oh,  nothing,  sir,"  Hannah  replied,  looking  out  of 
the  window  with  sad  apathy,  "only  that  there's  a 
comet,  they  say." 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  73 

"A  what?"  said  the  dying  astronomer,  starting  up 
on  his  elbow. 

"  A  comet— that'  all,  Master  Swithin,"  repeated 
Hannah,  in  a  lower  voice,  fearing  she  had  done  harm 
in  some  way. 

"  Well,  tell  me,  tell  me  !  ''  cried  Swithin.  "  Is  it 
Gambart's  ?  Is  it  Charles  the  Fifth's,  or  Halley's,  or 
Faye's,  or  whose  ? " 

"Hush!"  said  she,  thinking  St.  Cleeve  slightly 
delirious  again.  " '  Tis  God  A'might'ys,  of  course. 
I  have  n't  seed  em  myself  ;  but  they  say  he's  getting 
bigger  every  night,  and  that  he'll  be  the  biggest  one 
known  for  fifty  years  when  he's  full  "growed. 
There,  you  must  not  talk  any  more  now,  or  I'll  go 
away." 

Here  was  an  amazing  event,  little  noise  as  it  had 
made  in  the  happening.  Of  all  phenomena  that  he 
had  longed  to  witness  during  his  short  astronomical 
career,  those  appertaining  to  comets  had  excited  him 
most.  That  the  magnificent  comet  of  iSii  would  not 
return  again  for  thirty  centuries  had  been  quite  a  per- 
manent regret  with  him.  And  now,  when  the  bottom- 
less abyss  of  death  seemed  yawning  beneath  his  feet, 
one  of  these  much-desired  apparitions,  as  large, 
apparently,  as  any  of  its  tribe,  had  chosen  to  show 
itself. 

"Oh,  if  I  could  but  live  to  see  that  comet  through 
my  equatorial  !"  he  cried. 

Compared  with  comets,  variable  stars,  which  he  had 
hitherto  made  his  study,  were,  from  their  remoteness, 
uninteresting.  They  were  to  the  former  as  Ujiji  or 
Unyamwesi  to  the  people  of  his  own  country.  Attach- 
ed to  the  solar  system,  these  dazzling  and  perplexing 
rangers,  the  Byrons  of  firmamental  celebrities,  the 
facination  of  all  astronomers,  rendered  themselves  still 
more  fascinating  by  the  sinister  suspicion  attaching  to 
them  of  being  possibly  the  ultimate  destroyers  of  the 
human  race.  In  his  physical  prostration  St.  Cleeve 
wept  bitterly  at  not  being  hale  and  strong  enough  to 
welcome  with  proper  honor  the  new-come  specimen  of 
these  desirable  visitors. 


74  TWO  OA^  A    TO  WE  J?. 

The  strenuous  wish  to  live  and  behold  the  new 
phenomenon,  supplanting  the  utter  weariness  of  exist- 
ence that  he  had  heretofore  experienced,  lent  him  a 
new  vitality.  The  crisis  passed  ;  there  was  a  turn  for 
the  better  ;  and  after  that  he  rapidly  mended.  The 
comet  had  in  all  probability  saved  his  life.  The  limit- 
less and  complex  wonders  of  the  sky  resumed  their 
old  power  over  his  imagination  ;  the  possibilities  of 
that  unfathomable  blue  ocean  were  endless  ;  finer  feats 
than  ever  he  would  perform  were  to  be  achieved  in  its 
investigation.  What  Lady  Constantine  had  said,  that 
for  one  discovery  made  ten  awaited  making,  was 
strikingly  verified  by  the  sudden  appearance  of  this 
splendid  marvel. 

The  windows  of  St.  Cleeve's  bedroom  faced  the  west, 
and  nothing  would  satisfy  him  but  that  his  bed  should 
be  pulled  round  as  to  give  him  a  view  of  the  low  sky, 
in  which  the  as  yet  minute  tadpole  of  fire  was  recog- 
nizable. The  mere  sight  of  it  seemed  to  lend  him 
sufficient  resolution  to  complete  his  own  cure  forthwith. 
His  only  fear  now  was  lest  from  some  unexpected 
cause  or  other,  the  comet  would  vanish  before  he  could 
get  to  the  observatory  on  Ring's  Hill  Speer. 

In  his  fervor  to  begin  observing,  he  directed  that  an 
old  telescope,  which  he  had  used  in  his  first  celestial 
attempts,  should  be  tied  at  one  end  to  the  bedpost, 
and  at  the  other  fixed  near  his  eye,  as  he  reclined. 
Equipped  only  with  this  rough  improvisation,  he  began 
to  take  notes.  Lady  Constantine  was  forgotten,  tilL 
one  day,  suddenly,  wondering  if  she  knew  of  the  im- 
portant phenomenon,  he  revolved  in  his  mind  whether, 
as  a  fellow-student  and  sincere  friend  of  his,  she  ought 
not  to  be  sent  for,  and  instructed  in  the  use  of  the 
equatorial. 

But  though  the  image  of  Lady  Constantine,  in  spite 
of  her  kindness  and  unmistakably  w^arm  heart,  had 
been  obscured  in  his  mind  by  the  heavenly  body,  she 
had  not  so  readily  forgotten  him.  Too  shy  to  repeat 
her  visit  after  so  nearly  betraying  herself,  she  yet, 
tv"v,ry  day,  by  the  most  ingenious  and  subtle  means 
that  could  be  devised  by  a  woman  who  feared  for  her- 


TH^O  OAT  A    TOIVER.  75 

self,  but  could  not  refrain  from  tampering  with  dan- 
ger, ascertained  the  state  of  her  young  friend's  health. 
On  hearing  of  the  turn  in  his  condition  she  rejoiced 
on  his  account,  and  became  yet  more  despondent  on 
her  own.  If  he  had  died,  she  might  have  mused  on 
him  as  her  dear  departed  saint  without  much  sin  :  b'j.t 
his  return  to  life  was  a  delight  that  bewildered  and 
dismayed. 

One  evening,  a  little  later  on,  he  was  sitting  at  his 
bedroom  window,  as  usual,  waiting  for  a  sufficient  de- 
cline of  light  to  reveal  the  comet's  form,  when  he  be- 
held, crossing  the  field  contiguous  to  the  house,  a 
figure  which  he  knew  to  be  hers.  He  thought  she 
must  be  coming  to  see  him  on  the  grand  comet  ques- 
tion, to  discuss  which  with  so  delightful  and  kind  a 
comrade  was  an  expectation  full  of  pleasure.  Hence 
he  keenly  observed  her  approach,  till  something  hap- 
pened that  surprised  him.  When,  at  the  descent  of 
the  hill,  she  reached  the  stile  that  admitted  to  Mrs. 
Martin's  garden.  Lady  Constantine  stood  quite  still  for 
a  minute  or  more.  Instead  of  coming  on  to  the  house 
she  went  heavily  and  slowly  back,  almost  as  if  in  pain; 
and  at  length,  quickening  her  pace,  she  was  soon  out 
of  sight.  She  appeared  in  the  path  no  more  that 
day. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


w 


'HY  had  Lady  Constantine  stopped  and  turned? 
A  misgiving  had    taken    sudden    possession  of 
her.     Her  true  sentiment  towards  St.  Cleeve  was  too 
recognizable  to  herself  to  be  tolerated. 

That  she  had  a  legitimate  interest  in  him  as  a  young 
astronomer  was  true  ;  that  her  sympathy  on  account 
of  his  severe  illness  had  been  natural  and  commend- 
able was  also  true.  But  the  superfluous  feeling  was 
what  filled  her  with  trepidation.  Superfluities  have 
been  defined  as  things  you  cannot  do  without,  and 
this    particular   emotion,    that   came   not  within    her 


76  TIVO  ON  A    TOWER. 

rightful  measure,  was  just  such  a  superfluity  with  her. 
In  short,  she  felt  there  and  then  that  to  see  St.  Cleeve 
again  would  be  dangerous  ;  and  by  a  violent  effort 
she  retreated  from  his  precincts,  as  he  had  observed. 

She  resolved  to  ennoble  her  conduct  from  that  mo- 
ment of  her  life  onwards.  She  would  exercise  kind 
patronage  towards  Swithin  without  once  indulging 
herself  with  his  company.  Inexpressiblv  dear  to  her 
deserted  heart  he  was  becoming,  but  for  tlie  future  he 
should  at  least  be  hidden  from  her  eyes.  To  speak 
plainly,  it  wi.s  growing  a  serious  querjlion  whether, 
if  he  were  not  hidden  fron  her  eyes,  rAie  would  not 
soon  be  across  the  ragged  boundary  whicli  divides  the 
permissible  from  the  forbidden. 

By  the  time  she  drew  near  home  the  sun  was  going 
down.  The  heavy  and  handsome  ch\n-ch,  now  sub- 
dued by  violet  shadow,  except  where  lit.  upper  courses 
caught  the  western  stroke  of  flame-coior,  stood  close 
to  her  grounds,  though  the  village  of  which  it  formerly 
was  the  nucleus  had  become  quite  d£populated,  its 
cottages  having  been  demolished  to  enlarge  the 
park,  leaving  the  old  building  to  stand  there  alone, 
like  a  standard  without  an  army.  It  was  Friday  night, 
and  she  heard  the  organist  practicing  voluntaries 
within.  The  hour,  the  notes,  the  even-song  of  the 
birds,  and  her  own  previous  emotions  combined  to  in- 
fluence her  devotionally  ;  she  entered,  turning  to  the 
right  and  passing  under  the  chancel  arch,  where  she 
sat  down  and  viewed  the  whole  empty  length,  east  and 
west.  The  semi-Norman  arches  of  the  nave,  with 
their  multitudinous  notchings,  were  still  visible  by  the 
light  from  the  tower  window;  but  the  lower  portion 
cf  the  building  was  in  obscurity,  except  where  the 
feeble  glimmer  from  the  candle  of  the  organist  spread 
a  glow-worm  radiance  around.  The  player,  who  was 
Miss  Tabitha  Lark,  continued  without  intermission  to 
produce  her  wandering  sounds,  unconsciotis  of  any 
one's  presence  except  that  of  the  youthful  blower  at 
her  side. 

The  rays  from  the  organist's  candle  illuminated  but 
one  small   fragment  of  the  chancel   outside  the  pre- 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  77 

cincts  of  the  instrument,  and  that  was  the  portion  of 
the  eastern  wall  whereon  the  ten  commandments  were 
inscribed.  The  gilt  letters  shone  sternly  into  Lady 
Constantine's  eyes;  and  she,  being  as  impressionable  as 
a  turtle-dove,  watched  one  of  those  commandments 
on  the  second  table,  till  its  thunder  broke  her  spirit 
with  blank  contrition. 

She  knelt  down,  and  did  her  utmost  to  eradicate 
those  impulses  toward  St.  Cleeve  which  were  incon- 
sistent with  her  position  as  the  wife  of  an  absent  man, 
though  not  unnatural  in  her  as  his  victim. 

She  knelt  till  she  seemed  scarcely  to  belong  to  the 
time  she  lived  in,  which  lost  the  magnitude  that  the 
nearness  of  its  perspective  lent  it  on  ordinary  occa- 
sions, and  took  its  natural  rank  with  the  other  centu- 
ries. Having  once  got  out  of  herself,  she  was  calmer, 
and  went  on  to  register  a  magnanimous  vow.  She 
would  look  about  for  some  maiden  fit  and  likely  to 
make  St.  Cleeve  happy;  and  this  girl  she  would  en- 
dow with  what  money  she  could  afford,  that  the  natural 
result  of  their  apposition  should  do  him  no  worldly 
harm.  The  interest  of  her  (Lady  Constantine's)  life 
should  be  in  watching  the  development  of  love  be- 
tween Swithin  and  the  ideal  maiden. 

The  very  painfulness  of  the  scheme  to  her  suscep- 
tible heart  made  it  pleasing  to  her  conscience;  and  she 
wondered  that  she  had  not  before  this  time  thought 
of  a  stratagem  which  united  the  possibility  of  benefit- 
ing the  astronomer  with  the  advantage  of  guarding 
against  peril  to  both  Swithin  and  herself.  By  pro- 
viding for  him  a  suitable  helpmate  she  would  preclude 
the  dangerous  awakening  in  him  of  sentiments  recip- 
rocating her  own.  Arrived  at  a  point  of  exquisite  mis- 
ery through  this  heroic  intention.  Lady  Constantine's 
tears  moistened  the  books  upon  which  her  forehead 
was  bowed.  And  as  she  heard  her  feverish  heart  throb 
against  the  desk,  she  firmly  believed  the  wearing  im- 
pulses of  that  heart  would  put  an  end  to  her  sad  life, 
and  momentarily  recalled  the  banished  image  of  St. 
Cleeve  to  apostrophize  h'm  in  a  paraphrase  of  the 
poet's  quaint  lines — 


7S  TWO  ON  A    TOIVER. 

"  Dear  love,  press  thy  hand  to  my  breast,  and  tell 
If  thou  tracest  the  knocks  in  that  narrow  cell: 
A  carpenter  dwells  there;  cunning  is  he, 
And  slyly  he's  shaping  a  coffin  for  me. 

"  He  hammers  and  knocks  by  night  and  by  day; 
My  repose  he  has  utterly  banished  away. 
O  carpenter — carpenter,  prithee  work  fast. 
That  I  in  still  silence  may  slumber  at  last." 

Lady  Constantine  was  disturbed  by  a  break  in  the 
organist's  meandering  practice,  and  raising  her  head 
she  saw  a  person  standing  by  the  player.     It  was  Mr, 
Torkingham,  and  what  he  said  was  distinctly  audible 
He  was  inquiring  for  herself. 

"  I  thought  I  saw  Lady  Constantine  walk  this  way," 
he  rejoined  to  Tabitha's  negative.  "  I  am  very  anx- 
ious indeed  to  meet  with  her." 

She  went  forward.  "  I  am  here,"  she  said.  "  Don't 
stop  playing,  Miss  Lark.    What  is  it,  Mr.  Torkingham?" 

Tabitha  thereupon  resumed  her  playing,  and  Mr. 
Torkingham  joined  Lady  Constantine. 

"  I  have  some  very  serious  intelligence  to  break  to 
your  ladyship,"  he  said.  "  But — I  will  not  interrupt 
you  here."  (^He  had  seen  her  rise  from  her  knees  to 
come  to  him.)  "I  will  call  at  the  house  the  first  mo- 
ment you  can  receive  me,  after  reaching  home." 

*'  No,  tell  me  here,"  she  said,  reseating  herself. 

He  came  close,  and  placed  his  hand  on  the  poppy- 
head  of  the  seat.  "  I  have  received  a  telegram,"  he 
resumed,  haltingly,  "  in  which  I  am  requested  to  pre- 
pare you  for  the  contents  of  a  letter  that  you  will  re- 
ceive to-morrow  morning." 

"I  am  quite  ready." 

"  The  subject  is  briefly  this.  Lady  Constantine:  thai 
you  have  been  a  widow  for  more  than  eighteen 
months." 

"  Dead  !" 

"  Yes.  Sir  Blount  was  attacked  by  dysentery  and 
malarious  fever,  on  the  banks  of  the  Zonga  in  South 
Africa,  so  long  ago  as  last  October  twelvemonths,  and 
it  carried  him  off.  Of  the  three  men  who  were  with 
him,  two  succumbed  to  the  same  illness,  a  hundred 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  79 

miles  further  on;  while  tlie  third,  retracing  his  steps 
into  a  healthier  district,  remained  there  with  a  native 
tribe,  and  took  no  pains  to  make  the  circumstances 
known.  It  seems  to  be  only  by  the  mere  accident  of 
his  having  told  some  third  party  that  we  know  of  the 
matter  now.     This  is  all  I  can  tell  you  at  present." 

She  was  greatly  agitated  for  a  few  moments;  and 
ihe  Table  of  the  Law  opposite  glistened  indistinctly 
upon  a  vision  still  obscured  by  the  old  tears,  which 
now  seemed  to  appertain  to  another  dispensation. 

"  Shall  I  conduct  you  home?"  asked  the  parson. 

"No,  thank  you,"  said  Lady  Constantine.  "I 
would  rather  go  alone." 


O' 


CHAPTER  XIL 

|N  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day  Mr.  Torkingham, 
who  occasionally  dropped  in  to  see  St.  Cleeve, 
cal'ed  again  as  usual,  and  after  duly  remarking  on  the 
state  of  the  weather,  congratulating  him  on  his  sure 
though  slow  improvement,  and  answering  his  inquiries 
about  the  comet,  said:  "You  have  heard,  I  suppose, 
of  what  has  happened  to  Lady  Constantine  ?" 

"No.     Good  heavens!     Nothing  serious  ?" 

"Yes,  it  is  serious."  The  parson  informed  him  of 
the  death  of  Sir  Blount,  and  of  the  accidents  which 
had  hindered  all  knowledge  of  the  same — accidents 
favored  by  the  estrangement  of  the  pair,  and  the  lack 
of  correspondence  between  them  for  some  time. 

His  listener  received  the  news  with  the  concern  of  a 
friend,  Lady  Constantine's  aspect  in  his  eyes  depend- 
ing but  little  on  her  condition  matrimonially. 

"There  was  no  attempt  to  bring  him  home  when 
he  died?" 

"Oh,  no.  The  climate  necessitates  instant  burial. 
We  shall  have  more  particulars  in  a  day  or  two,  doubt- 
less." 

"Poor   Lady  Constantine — so   good   and    so   cmo- 


So  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

tional  as  she  is!  I  suppose  she  is  quite  prostrated  by 
the  bad  news." 

"  Well,  she  is  rather  serious — not  prostrated.  The 
household  is  going  into  mourning." 

"  Ah,  no.  she  would  not  be  quite  prostrated,"  mur- 
mured Swithin,  recollecting  himself.  "  He  was  unkind 
to  her  in  many  ways.  Do  you  think  she  will  go  away 
from  Welland.?" 

That  the  vicar  could  not  tell.  But  he  feared  that 
Sir  Blount's  affairs  had  been  in  a  seriously  involved 
condition,  which  might  necessitate  many  unexpected 
changes. 

Time  showed  that  Mr.  Torkingham's  surmises  were 
correct.  During  the  long  weeks  of  early  summer, 
through  which  the  young  man  still  lay  imprisoned,  if 
not  within  his  own  chamber,  within  the  limits  of  the 
house  and  garden,  news  reached  him  that  Sir  Blount's 
mismanagement  and  eccentric  behavior  were  resulting 
in  serious  consequences  to  Lady  Constantine;  nothing 
less,  indeed,  than  her  almost  complete  impoverishment. 
His  personality  was  swallowed  up  in  paying  his  debts, 
and  the  Welland  estate  was  so  heavily  charged  with 
annuities  to  his  distant  relatives  that  only  a  mere  pit- 
tance was  left  for  her.  She  was  reducing  the  estab- 
lishment to  the  narrowest  compass  compatible  with 
decent  gentility.  The  horses  were  sold  one  by  one; 
the  greater  part  of  the  house  was  shut  up,  and  she 
resided  in  the  smallest  rooms.  All  that  was  allowed 
to  remain  of  her  former  contingent  of  male  servants 
were  an  old  man  and  a  boy.  Instead  of  using  a  car- 
riage, she  drove  about  in  a  donkey-chair,  the  said  boy 
walking  in  front  to  clear  the  way  and  keep  the  animal 
in  motion;  while  she  wore,  so  his  informants  reported, 
not  an  ordinary  widow's  cap  or  bonnet,  but  something 
even  plainer,  the  black  material  being  drawn  tightly 
round  her  face,  giving  her  features  a  small,  demure, 
devout  cast,  very  pleasing  to  the  eye. 

"  Now  what's  the  most  curious  thing  in  this,  Mr, 
San  Cleeve,"  said  Sammy  Blore,  who,  in  calling  to  in- 
quire after  Swithin's  health,  had  imparted  some  of  the 
above  particulars,  "is  that  my  lady  seems  not  to  mind 


TWO  O.V  A    TOWER.  8l 

being  a  pore  woman  half  so  much  as  we  do  at  seeing 
her  so.  'Tis  a  wonderful  gift,  Mr.  San  Cleeve,  to  be 
able  to  guide  yerself,  and  not  let  loose  yer  soul  at  such 
a  misfortune.  I  should  go  and  drink  neat  if  it  had 
happened  to  me;  but  my  lady's  plan  is  best,  though  I 
only  know  such  practice  by  hearsay,  to  be  sure,  for  I 
never  had  nothing  to  lose." 

Meanwhile  the  observatory  was  not  forgotten;  nor 
that  visitant  of  singular  shape  and  habits,  which  had 
appeared  in  the  sky  from  no  one  knew  whither,  trailing 
its  luminous  streamer,  and  proceeding  on  its  way  in 
the  face  of  a  wondering  world,  till  it  should  choose  to 
vanish  as  suddenly  as  it  had  come.  When,  about  a 
month  after  the  above  dialogue  took  place,  Swithin 
was  allowed  to  go  about  as  usual,  his  first  pilgrimage 
was  to  the  Rings-Hill  Speer.  Here  he  studied  at  leisure 
what  he  had  come  to  see. 

On  his  return  to  the  homestead,  just  after  sunset,  he 
found  his  grandmother  and  Hannah  in  a  state  of  great 
concern.  The  former  was  looking  out  for  him  against 
the  evening  lights,  her  face  showing  itself  worn  and 
rutted  like  an  old  highway  by  the  passing  of  many 
days.  Her  inform^ltion  was  that  in  his  absence  Lady 
Constantine  had  called  in  her  driving-chair,  to  inquire 
for  him.  Her  ladyship  had  wished  to  observe  the 
comet  through  the  great  telescope,  but  had  found  the 
door  locked  when  she  applied  at  the  tower.  Would 
he  kindly  leave  the  door  unfastened  to-morrow,  she 
had  asked,  that  she  might  be  able  to  go  to  the  column 
on  the  following  evening,  for  the  same  purpose?  She 
did  not  require  him  to  attend. 

During  the  ne.\t  day  he  sent  Hannah  with  the  key 
to  Welland  House,  not  caring  to  leave  the  tower  open. 
As  evening  advanced  and  the  comet  grew  distinct,  he 
doubted  if  Lady  Constantine  could  handle  the  teles- 
cope alone  with  an}'^  pleasure  or  profit  to  herself.  Un- 
able, as  a  devotee  to  science,  to  rest  under  this  misgiv- 
ing, he  crossed  the  field  in  the  furrow  that  he  had  used 
ever  since  the  corn  was  st)\vn,  and  entered  the  planta- 
tion. His  unpracticed  mind  never  once  guessed  that 
her  stipulations  against  his  coming  might  have  arisen 

0 


82  TWO  ON  A    TOWEf. 

from  a  sense  that  such  meetings  had  already  been  too 
frequent  to  bear  repetition  with  propriety,  innocent  as 
they  had  been  in  fact  and  intent. 

On  ascending  he  found  her  already  there.  She  sat 
in  the  observing-chair:  the  warm  light  from  the  west, 
which  flowed  in  throiagh  the  opening  of  the  dome, 
brightening  her  face,  and  her  face  only,  her  robes  of 
sable  lawn  rendering  the  remainder  of  her  figure  al- 
most invisible. 

"  You  have  come  !  "  she  said,  with  some  dismay.  "  I 
did  not  require  you.  But  no  matter."  She  extended 
her  hand  cordially  to  him. 

Before  speaking  he  looked  at  her  with  a  great  new 
interest  in  his  eye.  It  was  the  first  time  that  he  had 
seen  her  thus,  and  she  was  altered  in  more  than  dress. 

"  Have  you  nothing  to  say  ? "  she  continued.  "  Your 
footsteps  were  audible  to  me  from  the  very  bottom, 
and  I  knew  they  were  yours.  You  look  almost  re- 
stored." 

"  I  am  almost  restored,"  he  replied,  respectfully 
pressing  her  hand.  "  A  reason  for  living  arose,  and  I 
lived." 

"  What  reason  ?  "  she  quickly  inquired. 

He  pointed  to  the  rocket-like  object  in  the  western 
sky.  His  eyes  then  returned  to  her  face,  whose  so- 
berly-sweet expression  was  of  a  rare  and  peculiar  kind, 
— something  that  he  had  never  seen  before  in  woman. 

"You  mean  the  comet?  Well,  you  will  never  make 
a  courtier  !  You  know,  of  course,  what  has  happened 
to  me.  Have  you  also  heard  that  I  am  now  quite  a 
poor  woman  ?     Tell  me  what  you  think  of  it." 

"  I  have  thought  very  little  of  it,  since  I  heard  that 
you  seemed  to  mind  it  but  little.  There  is  even  this 
good  in  it,  that  I  now  may  be  able  to  show  you  some 
little  kindness  for  all  those  you  have  done  me,  my 
dear  lady." 

"  Unless,  for  economy's  sake,  I  go  and  live  abroad. 
— at  Dinan,  Versailles,  or  Boulogne." 

Swithin,  who  had  never  thought  of  such  a  contin- 
gency, was  earnest  in  his  regrets  ;  without,  however, 
showing  more  than  a  sincere  friend's  disappointment. 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  .  83 

"I  did  not  say  it  was  absolutely  necessary,'  she  con- 
tinued. "  I  have,  in  fact,  grown  so  homely  and  home- 
loving,  I  am  so  interested  in  the  place  and  the  people 
here,  that,  in  spite  of  advice,  I  have  almost  determined 
not  to  let  the  house  ;  but  to  continue  the  less  business- 
like but  pleasanter  alternative  of  living  humbly  in  a 
part  of  it,  and  shutting  up  the  rest." 

"Your  love  of  astronomy  is  getting  as  strong  as 
mine  !  "  he  said,  ardently.  "  You  could  not  tear  your- 
self away  from  the  observatory." 

"You  might  have  supposed  me  capable  of  a  little 
human  feeling  as  well  as  scientific,  in  connection  with 
the  observatory." 

"Dear  Lady  Constantine,  by  admitting  that  your 
astronomer  has  also  a  part  of  your  interest " 

"Ah,  you  did  not  find  it  out  without  my  telling  !  " 
she  said,  with  a  playfulness  which  was  scarcely  play- 
ful, a  slight  accession  of  pinkness  being  visible  in  her 
face.  "I  diminish  myself  in  your  esteem  by  remind- 
ing you." 

"You  might  do  anything  in  this  world  without 
diminishing  yourself  in  my  esteem,  after  the  goodness 
you  have  shown.  And  more  than  that,  no  misrepre- 
sentation, no  rumor,  no  damning  appearance  whatever, 
would  ever  shake  my  loyalty  to  you." 

"  But  you  put  a  very  matter-of-fact  construction  on 
my  motives,  sometimes.  You  see  me  in  such  a  hard 
light  that  I  have  to  drop  hints  in  quite  a  maneuvering 
manner  to  let  you  know  I  am  as  sympathetic  as  other 
people.  I  sometimes  think  you  would  rather  have  me 
die  than  have  your  equatorial  stolen.  Confess  that 
your  admiration  for  me  was  based  on  my  house  and 
position  in  the  county  !  Now  I  am  shorn  of  all  that 
glory,  such  as  it  was,  and  am  a  widow,  and  am  poorer 
than  my  tenants,  and  can  no  longer  buy  telescopes, 
and  am  unable,  from  the  narrowness  of  my  circum- 
stances, to  mix  in  circles  that  people  formerly  said  I 
adorned,  I  fear  I  have  lost  the  little  hold  I  once  had 
over  you." 

"You  are  as  unjust  now  as  you  have  been  generous 
hitherto,"  said  St.  Cleeve,  with  tears  in  his  eyes  at  the 


84  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

gentle  banter  of  the  lady,  which  he,  poor  innocent, 
read  as  her  real  opinions.  Seizing  her  hand,  he  con- 
tinued, in  tones  between  reproach  and  anger  :  "  I  swear 
to  you  that  I  have  but  two  devotions,  two  thoughts, 
two  hopes,  and  two  blessings  in  this  world,  and  that 
one  of  them  is  yourself  !  " 

"And  the  other?" 

"The  pursuit  of  astronomy." 

"And  astronomy  stands  first." 

"I  have  never  ordinated  two  such  dissimilar  ideas. 
And  why  should  you  deplore  your  altered  circum- 
stances, my  dear  lady  ?  Your  widowhood,  if  I  may  take 
the  liberty  to  speak  on  such  a  subject,  is,  though  I 
suppose  a  sadness,  not  perhaps  an  unmixed  evil.  For 
though  your  pecuniary  troubles  have  been  discovered 
to  the  world  and  yourself  thereby,  your  happiness  in 
marriage  was,  as  you  have  generously  confided  to  me, 
not  great  ;  and  you  are  now  left  free  as  a  bird  to  fol- 
low your  own  hobbies." 

"I  wonder  you  recognize  that." 

"  But  perhaps,"  he  added,  with  a  sigh  of  regret,  "you 
will  again  fall  a  prey  to  some  man,  some  uninteresting 
country  'squire  or  other,  and  be  lost  to  the  scientific 
world  after  all." 

"  If  I  fall  a  prey  to  any  man,  it  will  not  be  a  country 
'squire.  But  don't  go  on  with  this,  for  Heaven's  sake  ! 
You  may  think  what  you  like  in  silence." 

"  We  are  forgetting  the  comet,"  said  St.  Cleeve.  He 
turned,  and  set  the  instrument  in  order  for  observation, 
and  wheeled  round  the  dome.  While  they  were  look- 
ing at  the  nucleus  of  the  fiery  plume,  that  now  filled 
so  large  a  space  of  the  sky  as  completely  to  dominate 
it,  Swithin  dropped  his  gaze  upon  the  field,  and  beheld 
in  the  dying  light  a  number  of  laborers  crossing  it 
directly  towards  the  column. 

"  What  do  you  see  ?  "  Lady  Constantine  asked,  with- 
out ceasing  to  observe  the  comet. 

"  Some  of  the  work-folk  are  coming  this  way.  I 
know  what  they  are  coming  for — I  promised  to  let 
them  look  at  the  comet  through  the  glass." 

"They  must  not  come  up  here,"  she  said,  decisively. 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  85 

"They  shall  await  your  time." 

"  I  have  a  special  reason  for  wishing  them  not  to  see 
me  here.  If  you  ask  why,  I  can  tell  you.  They  mis- 
takenly suspect  my  interest  to  be  less  in  astronomy 
than  in  the  astronomer,  and  they  must  have  no  show- 
ing for  such  a  wild  notion.  What  can  you  do  to  keep 
them  out  ?" 

"  I'll  lock  the  door,"  said  Swithin.  "  They  will  then 
think  I  am  away." 

He  ran  down  the  staircase,  and  she  could  hear  him 
hastily  turning  the  key.     Lady  Constantine  sighed. 

"What  weakness,  what  weakness  !  "  she  said  to  her- 
self. "  That  envied  power  of  self-control — where  is 
it  ?  That  power  of  concealment  which  a  woman 
should  have — where  ?  To  run  such  risks,  to  come 
here  alone — oh,  if  it  were  known  !  But  I  was  always 
so — always  !  " 

She  jumped  up,  and  followed  him  down-stairs. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


H 


E  was  standing  immediately  inside  the  door  at  the 
bottom,  though  it  was  so  dark   she  could  hardly 
see  him.     The  villagers  were  audibly  talking  without. 

"  He's  sure  to  come,  sooner  or  later,"  resounded  up 
the  spiral  in  the  voice  of  Hezzy  Biles.  "  He  wouldn't 
let  such  a  fine  show  as  the  comet  makes  to-night  go  by 
without  peeping  at  it — not  Master  Cleeve  !  Did  ye 
brmg  along  the  flagon,  Haymoss  ?  Then  we  will  sit 
down  inside  the  hut  here  and  wait.  He'll  come  afore 
bed-time.  Why,  his  spy-glass  will  stretch  out  that 
there  comet  as  long  as  Welland  Lane." 

"  I'd  as  soon  miss  the  great  peep-show  that  comes 
every  year  to  Grcenhill  Fair  as  a  sight  of  such  a  im- 
mortal spectacle  as  this!" 

"'Immortal     spectacle' — where    did    ye     get    that 
choice    morsel,    Haymoss?"    inquired    Sammy    Blore 
"  Well,  well,  the  Lord   save   the  simple.     But,  as  't  \f 


86  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

so  dark  in  the  hut,  suppose  we  draw  out  the  bench 
into  the  front  here,  souls?" 

The  bench  was  accordingly  brought  forth,  and  in 
order  to  have  a  back  to  lean  against  they  placed  it 
exactly  across  the  door  into  the  spiral  staircase. 
"  Now,  have  ye  got  any  backer?  If  ye  have  n't,  I 
have,"  continued  Sammy  Blore.  A  striking  of  matches 
followed,  and  the  speaker  concluded  comfortably; 
"  Now  we  shall  do  very  well." 

"  And  what  do  this  comet  mean?"  asked  Haymoss. 
"That  some  great  tumult  is  going  to  happen,  or  that 
we  shall  die  of  a  famine?" 

"Famine? — no,"  said  Nat  Chapman.  "That  only 
touches  such  as  we,  and  God  only  concerns  him- 
self wi'  his  upper  creatures.  It  is  n't  to  be  supposed 
that  a  strange  fiery  lantern  like  that  would  be  lighted 
up  for  folks  with  ten  or  a  dozen  shillings  a  week  and 
their  gristing,  and  a  load  o'  thorn  fagots  when  we  can 
get  'em.  If  't  is  a  signal  to  mend  the  ways  of  any- 
body in  this  parish,  't  is  to  my  Lady  Constantine, 
since  she  is  the  only  one  with  feelings  worth  such  a 
hint." 

"As  for  her  income — that  she's  now  lost." 

"Ah,  well;  I  don't  take  in  all  I  hear." 

Lady  Constantine  drew  close  to  St.  Cleeve's  side, 
and  whispered,  trembling:  "  Do  you  think  they  will 
wait  long?     Or  can  we  get  out?" 

Swithin  felt  the  awkwardness  of  the  situation.  The 
men  had  stupidly  placed  the  bench  close  to  the  door, 
w^hich,  owing  to  the  stairs  within,  opened  outwards; 
so  that,  at  the  first  push  by  the  pair  inside  to  release 
themselves,  the  bench  must  have  gone  over,  and  sent 
the  smokers  sprawling  on  their  faces.  He  whispered 
to  her  to  ascend  the  column  and  wait  till  he  came. 

"And  have  the  dead  man  left  her  nothing?  And 
have  he  carried  his  into  's  grave?  And  will  his  skele- 
ton lie  warm  on  account  o'  t  ?  Hee-hee  !"  said  Hay- 
moss. 

"  'T  is  all  swallered  up,"  observed  Hezzy  Biles. 
"  His  going-on  made  her  miserable  till  'a  died,  and  if 
I  were  the  woman  I'd  have  my  antics  now.     He  ought 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  87 

to  have  bequeathed  to  her  this  young  gentleman,  Mr. 
St.  Cleeve,  as  some  sort  of  amends.  I'd  up  and  mar- 
ry him  if  I  were  she;  since  her  downfall  has  brought 
'em  quite  near  together,  and  made  him  as  good  as 
she  in  rank,  as  he  was  afore  in  bone  and  breed- 
ing." 

"  D'ye  think  she  will  ?"  asked  Sammy  Blore.  "  Or 
is  she  intending  virginity  for  the  rest  of  her  days?" 

"I  don't  want  to  be  irreverent  to  her  ladyship;  but 
I  really  don't  think  she  is  intending  any  such  desper- 
ate martyring  of  herfelf.  I  say  she's  rather  intending 
to  commit  lawful  matrimony  with  somebody  or  other, 
and  one  young  gentleman  in  particular." 

"  But  the  young  man  himself  ?" 

"  Planned,  cut  out,  and  finished  for  the  delight  of 
woman!" 

"Yet  he  must  be  willing." 

"  Thfit  would  soon  come.  If  they  get  up  this  tower 
ruling  plannards  together  much  longer,  their  plannards 
will  soon  rule  them  together,  in  my  way  of  thinking. 
If  she  've  a  disposition  toward  the  knot,  she  can  soon 
teach  him." 

"  True,  true,  and  lawfully.  What  before  might  ha' 
been  a  wrong  desire  is  now  a  holy  wish." 

The  scales  fell  from  Swithin  St.  Cleeve's  eyes  as  he 
heard  the  words  of  his  neighbors.  How  suddenly 
the  truth  dawned  upon  him;  how  it  bewildered  liini, 
till  he  scarcely  knew  where  he  was;  how  he  recalled 
the  full  force  of  what  he  had  only  half  apprehended 
at  earlier  times — these  vivid  things  are  difficult  to  tell 
in  slow  verbiage.  He  could  remain  there  no  longer, 
and  with  an  electrified  heart  he  retreated  up  the  spi- 
ral. He  found  Lady  Conslantine  half-way  to  the  top, 
standing  by  a  loop-hole,  and  when  she  spoke  he  dis- 
covered that  she  was  almost  in  tears.  "Are  they 
gone?"  she  asked. 

"  I  fear  they  will  not  go  yet,"  he  replied,  with  a 
nervous  fluctuation  of  manner  that  had  never  before 
appeared  in  his  bearings  towards  her. 

"  What'shall  I  do  ?  "  she  asked.     "  I  ought  not  to  be 


88  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

here  ;  nobody  knows  that  I  am  out  of  the  house.     Oh, 
this  is  a  mistake  !     I  must  go  home  somehow." 

"  Did  you  hear  what  they  were  saying  ? " 

"  No,"  said  she.  "  What  is  the  matter  ?  Surely  you 
are  trembling.     What  did  they  say  ?" 

"It  would  be  the  exaggeration  of  frankness  in  me 
to  tell  you." 

"  Is  it  what  a  woman  ought  not  to  be  made  ac- 
quainted with  ?" 

"  It  is,  in  this  case.  It  is  so  new  and  indescribable 
an  idea  to  me— that "  He  leaned  against  the  con- 
cave wall,  quite  tremulous  with  strange,  incipient 
sentiments. 

"What  sort  of  an  idea  ?"  she  asked,  gently. 

"  It  is — an  awakening.  In  thinking  of  the  heaven 
above,  I  did  not  perceive — the " 

"Earth  beneath?" 

"The  other  heaven  beneath.  Pray,  dear  Lady  Con- 
Stantine,  give  me  your  hand  for  a  moment !  " 

She  seemed  startled,  and  the  hand  was  not  given. 
"  I  am  so  anxious  to  get  home,"  she  repeated.  "  I  did 
not  mean  to  stay  here  more  than  five  minutes.  " 

_"  I  fear  I  am  much  to  blame  for  this  accident,"  he 
said.  "  I  ought  not  to  have  intruded  here.  But  don't 
grieve  !  I  will  arrange  for  your  escape,  somehow. 
Be  good  enough  to  follow  me  down." 

They  redescended,  and,  whispering  to  Lady  Con- 
stantine  to  remain  a  few  stairs  behind,  he  began  to 
rattle  and  unlock  the  door.  The  men  precipitately 
removed  their  bench,  and  Swithin  stepped  out,  the 
light  being  still  enough  to  enable  them  to  distinguish 
him. 

"Well,  Hezekiah,  and  Samuel,  and  Nat,  how  are 
you  ? "  he  said,  boldly. 

"Well,  sir,  't  is  much  as  before  with  me,"  replied 
Nat.  "One  hour  a  week  with  God  and  the  rest  with 
the  devil,  as  a  man  may  say.  And  really,  now  yer 
poor  father's  gone,  I'd  as  lief'that  Sunday  hourshould 
go  like  the  rest ;  for  Pa'son  Tarkenham  do  tease  a 
feller's  conscience  that  much  that  church  is  no  holler- 
day   at    all    to   the    limbs,  as  it  was   in  yer  reverent 


7  wo  ON  A   TOWER.  S9 

father's  time.  But  we've  been  waiting  nere,  Mr.  San 
Cleeve,  supposing  ye  had  not  come." 

"I  have  been  sitting  at  the  top,  and  fastened  the 
door  not  to  be  disturbed.  Now  I  am  sorry  to  disap- 
point you,  but  I  have  another  engagement  this  even- 
ing,' so  that  it  would  be  inconvenient  to  admit  you. 
To-morrow  evening,  or  any  evening  but  this,  I  will 
show  you  the  comet  and  any  stars  you  like." 

They  readily  agreed  to  come  the  next  night,  and 
prepared  to  depart.  But  what  with  the  flagon  and 
the  pipes  and  the  final  observations,  getting  away  was 
a  matter  of  time.  Meanwhile,  a  cloud,  which  nobody 
had  noticed,  had  arisen  from  the  north  overhead,  and 
large  drops  of  rain  began  to  fall  so  rapidly  that  the 
conclave  entered  the  hut  till  it  should  be  over.  St. 
Cleeve  strolled  off  under  the  firs.  The  next  moment 
there  was  a  rustling  through  the  trees  at  another  point, 
and  a  man  and  a  woman  appeared.  The  woman  took 
shelter  under  a  tree,  and  the  man,  bearing  wraps  and 
umbrellas,  came  forward. 

"My  lady's  man  and  maid,"  said  Sammy. 
"  Is  her  ladyship  here?"  asked  the  man. 
"  Her  ladyship  keeps  more    kissable  company,"  re- 
plied Nat  Chapman. 
"Hush!"  said  Blore. 

"  Not  here?  Well,  to  be  sure!  We  can't  find  her 
anywhere  in  the  wide  house!  I've  been  sent  to  look 
for  her  with  these  overclothes  and  umbrella.  I've  suf- 
fered horse-flesh  traipsing  up  and  down,  and  can't 
find  her  nowhere.  Lord,  Lord,  where  can  she  be,  and 
two  months'  wages  owing  me." 

"  Why  so  anxious,  Anthony  Green,  as  I  think  your 
name  is  shaped?  You  be  not  a  married  man  ?"  said 
Hezzy. 

"  'Tis  what  they  call  me,  neighbors,  whether  or  no." 
"  But  surely  you  was  a  bachelor  chap  by  late,  afore 

her  ladyship  got  rid  of  the  regular  servants  and  took 

ye?" 

"  I  were;  but  that's  past." 

"And  how  came  ye  to  bow  yer  head   to't,  Anthony? 


90  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

'T  is  what  you  never  was  inclined  to.  You  was  by  n© 
means  a  doting  man  in  my  time." 

"  Well,  had  I  been  left  to  my  own  free  choice,  'tis 
as  like  as  not  I  should  ha'  shunned  forming  such  kind- 
red, being  at  that  time  a  poor  day  man,  or  weekly,  at 
my  highest  luck  in  hiring.  But  'tis  wearing  work  to 
hold  out  against  common  usage,  and  the  woman  want- 
ing ye  to  stand  by  her  and  save  her  from  unborn 
shame;  so,  since  custom  would  have  it,  I  let  myself  be 
carried  away  by  opinion,  and  took  her.  Though  she's 
never  once  thanked  me  for  covering  her  confusion, 
that's  true.  Well,  well,  't  is  the  way  of  God's  creat- 
ures, as  a  man  may  say,  and  I  don't  complain.  Here 
she  is,  just  behind,  under  the  tree,  if  you'd  like  to  see 
her.  Well,  well,  where  can  my  Lady  be?  And  I  the 
trusty  jineral  man — 't  is  more  than  my  place  is  worth 
to  lose  her!  Come  forward,  Christiana,  and  talk  to 
the  gentlemen." 

While  the  woman  was  talking,  the  rain  increased  so 
much  that  they  all  retreated  further  into  the  hut. 
St.  Cleeve,  who  had  so  impatiently  stood  a  little  way 
off,  now  saw  his  opportunity,  and  putting  in  his  head, 
said:  "  The  rain  beats  in;  you  had  better  shut  the  door. 
I  must  ascend  and  close  up  the  dome."  Slamming  the 
door  upon  them  without  ceremony,  he  quickly  went  to 
poor  Lady  Constantine  in  the  column,  and  telling  her 
she  could  pass  them  unseen  gave  her  his  arm;  thus  he 
conducted  her  across  the  front  of  the  hut  into  the 
shadows  of  the  firs. 

"I  will  run  to  the  house  and  harness  your  little  car- 
riBge  myself,"  he  said,  tenderly.  "  I  will  then  take 
you  home  in  it." 

"  No;  please  don't  leave  me  here  alone  under  these 
dismal  trees."  Neither  would  she  hear  of  his  getting 
her  any  wraps;  and,  opening  her  little  sunshade  to 
keep  the  rain  out  of  her  face,  she  walked  with  him 
across  the  insulating  field,  after  which  the  trees  of  the 
park  afforded  her  a  sufficient  shelter  to  reach  home 
without  much  damage.  Swithin  was  too  greatly  affect- 
ed by  what  he  had  overheard,  to  speak  much  to  her 
on  the  way,  and    protected  her   as  if  she   had  been  a 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  91 

shorn  lamb.  After  a  farewell  which  had  more  mean- 
ing than  sound  in  it,  he  hastened  back  to  Rings-Hill 
Speer.  The  workfolks  were  still  in  the  hut,  and  by 
dint  of  friendly  converse  and  a  sip  at  the  flagon  had 
so  cheered  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Anthony  Green  that  they 
neither  thought  nor  cared  what  had  become  of  Lady 
Constantine. 

St.  Cleeve's  sudden  sense  of  new  reactions  with 
that  sweet  patroness  had  taken  away  in  one  half- 
hour  his  natural  ingenuousness.  Henceforth  he  could 
act  a  part. 

"  I  have  all  secure  at  the  top,"  he  said,  putting  his 
head  into  the  hut.  "  I  am  now  going  home.  When 
the  rain  ceases,  lock  this  door  and  bring  the  key  to  my 
house." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"D  URAL  solitude,  which  provides  ample  themes  for 
the  intellect  and  sweet  occupations  innumerable 
for  the  minor  sentiments,  affords  no  normal  channel 
for  those  stronger  passions  that  enter  no  less  than  the 
others  into  the  complicated  stream  of  human  conscious- 
ness. The  suspended  pathos  finds  its  remedy  in 
crystallizing  on  the  first  intrusive  object  that  happens 
to  be  reasonably  well  organized  for  the  purpose, 
regardless  of  reasonable  accessories.  Where  the  soli- 
tude is  shadowed  by  the  secret  melancholies  of  the 
solitary,  this  process  is  still  surer  in  operation. 

The  labored  resistance  which  Lady  Constantine's 
judgment  had  offered  to  her  rebellious  affection  ere  she 
learned  that  she  was  a  widow,  and  which  had  taken  the 
form  of  sharp  remorse,  became  now  an  inward  bashful- 
ness,  that  rendered  her  even  more  unstable  of  mood 
than  she  was  before.  However,  having  discovered 
herself  to  love  this  handsome  youth  of  intellectual 
promise,  she  was  one  of  that  mettle,  fervid,  cordial, 
and  spontaneous,  who  would  rather  see  all  her  affairs 
going  to  rack  and  ruin  than  abjure  a  tender  faith  in 
anybody  to  repair.     But  they  had  already  gone, to  rack 


92  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

and  ruin  by  no  fault  of  hers,  and  had  left  her  such  a 
painfully  narrowed  existence  as  even  lent  something 
of  rationality  to  her  attachment.  Thus  it  was  that  her 
restful  and  unambitious  soul  found  comfort  in  her 
reverses. 

As  for  St.  Cleeve,  the  tardiness  of  his  awakening  was 
the  natural  result  of  his  experience  combined  with 
devotion  to  his  hobby.  But,  like  a  spring  bud  hard  in 
bursting,  the  delay  was  compensated  by  after-speed. 
At  once  breathlessly  recognizing  in  this  fellow-watcher 
of  the  skies  a  handsome  woman  attached  to  him,  in 
addition  to  the  patroness  and  friend,  he  truly  trans- 
lated the  nearly  forgotten  kiss  she  had  given  him  in 
her  moment  of  despair.  The  first  word  of  self-com- 
muning about  her  in  this  aspect  begot  a  second,  and 
the  second  begot  a  third,  and  so  on  to  the  end  of  the 
chapter  of  development  which  makes  up  the  growth  of 
a  love. 

Lady  Constantine,  in  being  seven  years  his  senior, 
was  an  object  even  better  calculated  to  nourish  a 
youth's  first  passion  than  any  girl  his  own  age,  su- 
periority of  experience  and  ripeness  of  emotion  exer- 
cising a  peculiar  fascination  over  young  men  in  their 
first  ventures  in  this  kind. 

The  alchemy  which  thus  transmuted  an  abstracted 
astronomer  into  an  eager  lover — alas,  must  it  be  said, 
spoilt  a  promising  young  physicist  to  produce  a 
commonplace  inamorato  ?  — may  be  almost  described 
as  working  its  change  in  one  short  night.  Next  morn- 
ing he  was  so  fascinated  with  the  new  sensation  that 
he  wanted  to  rush  off  at  once  to  Lady  Constantine, 
and  say  :  "  I  love  you  true  !  "  in  the  intensest  tones  of 
that  mental  condition,  so  as  to  register  his  assertion  in 
her  heart  before  any  of  those  accidents  which  "  creep 
in  'twixt  vows  and  change  decrees  of  kings,"  should 
occur  to  hinder  him.  But  his  embarrasment  at  stand- 
ing in  a  new  position  towards  her  would  not  allow  him 
to  present  himself  at  her  door  in  any  such  hurry.  He 
waited  on,  as  helplessly  as  a  girl,  for  a  chance  of 
encountering  her. 

But  though  she  had  tacitly  agreed  to  see  him  on  any 


TIVO  ON  A    TOWER.  93 

reasonable    occasion,   Lady  Constantine  did    not    put 
herself  in  his  way.     Now  that  for  the  first  time  he  had 
learned  to  feel   a   strong  impatience  for  their  meeting, 
her  shyness   for   the    first  time    led   to    delay  it.     But 
given  two  people  living  in  one  parish,  who  long  from 
the  depths  of  their  hearts  to  be  in  each  other's  com- 
pany,   what     resolves    of     modesty,    policy,    pride,    or 
apprehension  will  keep  them    for  any  length  of   time 
apart?     One  afternoon  he  was  watching  the  sun  from 
his  tower,  and    half    echoing   the   Greek  astronomer's 
wish  thathe  might  be  set   close   to  that  luminary  for 
the  wonder  of  beholding  it  in  all  its  glor}^,  at  the  slight 
penalty  of    being   utterly  consumed  the    next  instant. 
Glancing  over  the  high-road   between  the  field  and  the 
park  (which  sublunary  features  now  too  often  distract- 
ed his  attention  from  his  telescope),  he  saw  her  passing 
along   that    way.      She    was    seated    in    the    donkey- 
carriage,  that  had  now  taken  the  place  of  her  landau, 
the  white  animal  looking  no  larger  than  a  cat  at   that 
distance.     The  buttoned    boy,   who  represented   both 
coachman  and  footman,  walked  alongside  the  animal's 
head  at  a  solemn  pace  ;  the  dog  stalked  at  the  distance 
of  a  yard   behind    the   vehicle,    without  indulging  in  a 
single  gambol  ;  and  the  whole  turn-out   resembled  in 
dignity  a  dwarfed  state  procession. 

Here  was  an  excellent  opportunity  but  for  two  ob- 
structions:   the   boy,   who   might  be  curious;  and  the 
dog,  who  might  bark  and  attract  the  attention  of  any 
laborers  or  servants  near.     Yet  the  risk  was  to  be  run, 
and,   knowing   th;i.t   she   would  soon  turn  up  a  certain 
shady  lane  at  right  angles  to  the  road  she  had  follow- 
ed,   he    ran    hastily    down    the    staircase,  crossed  the 
barley  (which  now  covered  the  field)  by  the  path   not 
more  than  a  foot  wide  which  he  had  trodden  for  him- 
self, and  got  into  the  lane  at  the  other  end.     By  slow- 
ly walking   along   it   in   the  direction  of  the  turnpike 
road  he  soon  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  her  coming. 
To  his  surprise,  he  also  had  the  additional  satisfaction 
of  perceiving  that  neither  boy  nor  dog  was  in  her  com- 
pany. 
They  both  blushed  as  they  approached,  she  from 


94  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

sex,  he  from  juvenility.  One  thing  she  seemed  to  see 
in  a  moment,  that  in  the  interval  of  her  absence  St. 
Cleeve  had  become  a  man;  and  as  he  greeted 
her  with  this  new  and  maturer  light  in  his  eyes, 
she  could  not  hide  her  embarassment  or  meet  their 
fire. 

"I  have  just  sent  my  page  across  to  the  column 
with  your  book  on  Cometary  Nuclei,  that  you  might 
not  come  to  the  House  for  it.  I  did  not  know  I  should 
meet  you  here." 

"Didn't  you  wish  me  to  come  to  the  House  for  it?" 

"I  did  not,  frankly.     You  know  why,  do  you   not?" 

"  Yes,  I  know.  Well,  my  longing  is  at  rest.  I  have 
met  you  again.  But  are  you  unwell,  that  you  drive 
out  in  this  chair?" 

"No;  I  walked  out  this  morning,  and  am  a  little 
tired.'' 

"I  have  been  looking  for  you  night  and  day.  Why 
do  you  turn  your  face  aside?  You  used  not  to  be  so." 
Her  hand  rested  on  the  side  of  the  chair,  and  he  took 
it.  "Do  you  know  that  since  we  last  met,  I  have  been 
thinking  of  you — daring  to  think  of  you — as  I  never 
thought  of  you  before?" 

"Yes,  I  know  it." 

"How  did  you  know?" 

"I  saw  it  in  your  face  when  you  came  up." 

"Well,  I  suppose  I  ought  not  to  think  of  you  so. 
And  yet,  had  I  not  learned  to,  I  should  never  fully  have 
felt  how  gent'e  and  sweet  you  are.  Only  think  of  my 
loss  if  I  had  lived  and  died  without  seeing  more  in 
you  than  in  astronomy!  But  I  shall  never  cease  to 
do  so  now.  When  you  talk  I  shall  love  your  under- 
standing; when  you  are  silent  I  shall  love  your  face. 
But  how  shall  I  know  that  you  care  to  be  so  much 
to  me?" 

Her  manner  was  disturbed  as  she  recognized  the 
impending  self-surrender,  which  she  knew  not  how 
to  resist,  and  was  not  altogether  at  ease  in  welcom- 
ing. 

"Oh,  Lady  Constantine,"  he  continued,  bending 
over  her,  "give  me  some  proof  more  than  mere  seem- 


TIVO  ON  A    TOWER.  95 

ing  and  inference,  which  are  all  I  have  at  present,  that 
}OU  don't  think  this  I  tell  you  of  presumption  in  me  ! 
I  have  been  unable  to  do  anything  since  I  last  saw 
you  for  pondering  uncertainly  on  this.  Some  proof,  or 
little  sign,  that  We  are  one  in  heart!" 

A  blush  settled  on  her  face  ;  and  half  in  effort,  half 
in  spontaneity,  she  put  her  finger  on  her  cheek.  He 
respectfully,  almost  devotionally,  kissed  the  spot. 

"  Does  that  suffice  ?  "  she  asked,  scarcely  giving  her 
words  voice. 

"Yes;  I  am  convinced." 

"Then  that  must  be  the  end.  Let  me  drive  on  ; 
the  boy  will  be  back  again  soon."  She  spoke  hastily, 
and  looked  askance,  to  hide  the  heat  of  her  cheek. 

"  No ;  the  tower  door  is  open,  and  he  will  go  to  the 
top,  and  waste  his  time  in  looking  through  the  tele- 
scope." 

"  Then  you  should  rush  back,  for  he  will  do  some 
damage." 

"  No  ;  he  may  do  what  he  likes,  tinker  and  spoil  the 
instrument,  destroy  my  papers — anything,  so  that  he 
will  stay  there  and  leave  us  alone." 

She  flushed  with  a  species  of  pained  pleasure.  "  You 
never  used  to  feel  like  that  !  "  she  said,  and  there  was 
keen  self-reproach  in  her  voice.  "  You  were  once  so 
devoted  to  your  science  that  the  thought  of  an  in- 
truder into  your  temple  would  have  driven  you  wild. 
Now  you  don't  care  ;  and  who  is  to  blame  ?  Ah,  not 
you,  not  you  !  " 

The  animal  ambled  on  with  her,  and  he,  leaning  on 
the    side    of    the    little    vehicle,    kept    her  company. 

"Well,  don't  let  us  think  of  that,"  he  said.  "I 
offer  myself  and  all  my  energies,  frankly  and  entirely, 
to  you,  my  dear,  dear  lady,  whose  I  shall  be  always. 
But  my  words  in  telling  you  this  will  onh'  injure  my 
meaning,  instead  of  emphasize  it.  In  expressing, 
even  to  myself,  my  thoughts  of  you,  I  find  that  I  fall 
into  phrases  which,  as  a  critic,  I  should  hitlierto  have 
heartily  despised  for  their  commonness.  What's  the 
use  of  saying,  for  instance,  as  I  have  just  said,  that  I 
give  myself  entirely  to  ycu,  and  shall  be  yours  always 


96  TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  ' 

— that  you  have  my  devotion,  my  highest  homage  ? 
Those  words  have  been  used  so  frequently  in  a  flip- 
pant manner  that  honest  use  of  tiiem  is  not  dis- 
tinguishable from  the  unreal."  He  turned  to  her, 
and  added,  smiling  :  "  Your  eyes  are  to  be  my  stars 
for  the  future." 

"  Yes,  I  know  it — I  know  it,  and  all  you  would  say  ! 
I  dreaded  even  while  I  hoped  for  this,  my  dear  young 
friend,"  she  replied,  her  eyes  being  full  of  tears.  "  I 
am  injuring  you  ;  who  knows  that  I  am  not  injuring 
your  future — I  who  ought  to  know  better?  Nothing 
can  come  of  this — nothing  must — and  I  am  only  wast- 
ing your  time.  Why  have  I  drawn  you  off  from  a 
grand  celestial  study  to  study  poor  lonely  me?  Say 
you  will  never  despise  me,  when  you  get  older,  for 
this  episode  in  our  lives.  But  you  will — I  know  you 
will.  All  men  do,  when  they  have  been  attracted  in 
their  unsuspecting  youth  as  I  have  attracted  you.  I 
ought  to  have  kept  my  resolve." 

"  What  was  that  ?  " 

"  To  bear  anything  rather  than  draw  you  from  your 
high  purpose  ;  to  be  like  the  noble  citizen  of  old 
times,  who,  attending  a  sacrifice,  let  himself  be  burnt 
to  the  bone  by  a  coal  that  jumped  into  his  sleeve 
rather  than  disturb  the  sacred  ceremony." 

"  But  can  I  not  study  and  love  both  ?  " 

"  I  hope  so — I  earnestly  hope  so.  But  you'll  be  the 
first  if  you  do,  and  I  am  the  responsible  one  if  you  do 
not." 

"  You  speak  as  if  I  were  quite  a  child,  and  you  im- 
mensely older.  Why,  how  old  do  you  think  I  am  ?  I 
am  twenty." 

"  You  seem  younger.  Well,  that's  so  much  the  bet- 
ter. That  sounds  strong  and  firm.  How  old  do  you 
think  I  am  ?" 

"I  have  never  thought  of  considering."  He  inno- 
cently turned  to  scrutinize  her  face.  She  winced  a 
little.  But  the  instinct  was  premature.  Time  had 
taken  no  liberties  with  her  features  as  yet  ;  nor  had 
trouble  very  roughly  handled  her,  to  outward  view. 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  she  replied,  speaking  almost  with 


TWO  ON  A    TOIVER.  .  97 

physical  pain,  yet  as  if  determination  should  carry 
her  through.  "  I  am  six-and-twenty — nearly — I  mean 
a  little  more — a  few  months  more.  Am  I  not  a  fear- 
ful deal  older  than  you?" 

'*At  first  it  seems  a  great  deal,"  he  answered,  musing. 
"  But  it  doesn't  seem  much  when  one  gets  used  to  it." 

"  Nonsense!"  she  exclaimed.     "  It  is  a  good  deal." 

"  Very  well,  then,  sweetest  Lady  Constantine,  let  it 
be,"  he  said,  gently. 

"  You  should  not  let  it  be!  A  polite  man  would  have 
flatly  contradicted  me.  .  .  .  Oh,  I  am  ashamed  of 
this!"  she  added,  a  moment  after,  with  a  subdued,  sad 
look  upon  the  ground.  "  I  am  speaking  by  the  card 
of  the  outer  world,  which  I  have  left  behind  utterly: 
no  such  lip-service  is  known  in  your  sphere.  I  care 
nothing  for  those  things,  really;  but  that  which  is 
called  the  Eve  in  us  will  out  sometimes.  Well,  we 
will  forget  that  now,  as  we  must,  at  no  very  distant 
date,  forget  all  the  rest  of  this." 

He  walked  beside  her  thoughtfully  for  a  while,  with 
his  eyes  also  bent  on  the  road.  "Why  must  we  forget 
it  all?"  he  inquired. 

"  It  is  only  an  interlude." 

"An  interlude!  It  is  no  interlude  to  me.  Oh,  how 
can  you  talk  so  lightly  of  this,  Lady  Constantine? 
And  yet,  if  I  were  to  go  away  from  here,  I  might,  per- 
haps, soon  reduce  it  to  an  interlude!  Yes,"  he  re- 
sumed, impulsively,  "I  will  go  away.  Love  dies,  and 
it  is  just  as  well  to  strangle  it  in  its  birth;  it  can  only 
die  once!     I'll  go." 

"  No — no!"  she  said,  looking  up  apprehensively.  "  I 
mislead  you.  It  is  no  interlude  to  me — it  is  tragical. 
J.  only  meant  that  from  a  worldly  point  of  view  it  is 
an  interlude,  which  we  should  try  to  forget.  But  the 
world  is  not  all.     You  will  not  go  away?" 

But  he  continued,  drearily:  "Yes — yes,  I  see  it  all: 
you  have  enlightened  me.  It  will  be  hurting  your 
prospects  even  more  than  mine,  if  I  stay.  Now  Sir 
Blount  is  dead,  you  are  free  again — may  marry  where 
you  will,  but  for  this  fancy  of  ours.  I'll  leave  Wel- 
land,  before  harm  comes  of  my  staying." 

7 


98  TWO  ON  A    TOWER, 

"Don't  decide  to  do  a  thing  so  rash!"  she  begged, 
seizing  his  hand,  and  looking  miserable  at  the  effect 
of  her  words.  "  I  shall  have  nobody  left  in  the  world 
to  care  for!  And  now  I  have  given  you  the  great 
telescope,  and  lent  you  the  column,  it  would  be  un- 
grateful to  go  away!  I  was  wrong;  believe  me  that  I 
did  not  mean  that  it  was  a  mere  interlude  to  me.  Oh, 
if  you  only  knew  how  very — very  far  it  is  from  that! 
It  is  my  doubt  of  the  result  to  you  that  makes  me 
speak  so  slightingly." 

They  were  now  approaching  cross-roads,  and  casu- 
ally looking  up,  they  beheld,  thirty  or  forty  rods  be- 
yond the  crossing,  Mr.  Torkingham,  who  was  leaning 
over  a  gate,  his  back  being  toward  them.  As  yet  he 
had  not  recognized  their  approach. 

The  master  passion  had  already  supplanted  St. 
Cleeve's  natural  ingenuousness  by  subtlety. 

"  Would  it  be  well  for  us  to  see  Mr.  Torkingham 
just  now?"  he  began. 

"Certainly  not,"  she  said,  hastily,  and  pulling  the 
rein  she  instantly  drove  down  the  right-hand  road. 
"I  cannot  meet  anybody!"  she  murmured.  "Would 
it  not  be  better  that  you  leave  me  now? — not  for  my 
pleasure,  but  that  there  may  arise  no  distressing  tales 
about  us  before  we  know — how  to  act  in  this — this — " 
(she  smiled  faintly)  "  heart-aching  extremity." 

They  were  passing  under  a  huge  oak  tree,  whose 
limbs,  irregular  with  shoulders,  knuckles,  and  elbows, 
stretched  horizontally  over  the  lane  in  a  manner  re- 
calling Absalom's  death.  A  slight  rustling  was  per- 
ceptible amid  the  leafage  as  they  drew  out  from  be- 
neath it,  and,  turning  up  his  eyes,  Swithin  saw  that 
very  buttoned  page,  whose  advent  they  had  dreaded, 
looking  down  with  interest  at  them  from  a  perch  not 
much  higher  than  a  yard  above  their  heads.  He  had 
a  bunch  of  oak-apples  in  his  hand,  plainly  the  object 
of  his  climb,  and  was  furtively  watching  Lady  Con- 
stantine,  with  the  hope  that  she  might  not  see  him. 
But  that  she  had  already  done,  though  she  did  not 
reveal  it,  and.,  fearing  that  the  latter  words  of  their 


TWO  ON  A   TO  WER.  99 

conversation  had  been  overheard,  they  spoke  not  till 
they  had  passed  the  next  turning. 

She  stretched  out  her  hand  to  his.  "This  must  not 
go  on,"  she  said,  imploringly.  "My  anxiety  as  to 
what  may  be  said  of  such  methods  of  meeting  makes 
me  too  unhappy.  See  what  has  happened!"  She 
could  not  help  smiling.  "  Out  of  the  frying-pan  into 
the  fire!  After  meanly  turning  to  avoid  the  parson, 
we  have  rushed  into  a  worse  publicity.  It  is  too  hu- 
miliating to  have  to  avoid  people,  and  lowers  both 
you  and  me.     The  only  remedy  is  not  to  meet." 

"Very  well,"  said  Swithin,  with  a  sigh.  "So  it 
shall  be." 

And  with  smiles  that  might  as  well  have  been  tears, 
they  parted  there  and  then. 


CHAPTER    XV. 


T' 


'HE  summer  passed  away,  and  autumn,  with  its 
infinite  succession  of  tints,  came  creeping  on. 
Darker  grew  the  evenings,  tearfuller  the  moonlights, 
and  heavier  the  dews.  Meanwhile  the  comet  had 
waxed  to  its  largest  dimensions — so  large  that  not  only 
the  nucleus  but  a  portion  of  the  tail  had  been  visible 
in  broad  day.  It  was  now  on  the  wane,  though  every 
night  the  equatorial  still  afforded  an  opportunity  of 
observing  the  singular  object,  which  would  soon  dis- 
appear altogether  from  the  heavens  for  perhaps  thou- 
sands of  years. 

But  the  astronomer  of  the  Rings-Hill  Speer  was  no 
longer  a  match  for  his  celestial  materials.  Scientifi- 
cally he  had  become  but  a  dim  vapor  of  himself;  the 
lover  had  come  into  him  like  an  armed  man,  and  cast 
out  the  student,  and  his  intellectual  situation  was 
growing  a  life-and-death  matter. 

The  resolve  of  the  [lair  had  been  so  far  kept;  they 
had  not  seen  each  other  in  private  for  three  months. 
But  on  one  day  in  October  he  ventured  to  write  a 
note  to  her; 


100  l^hO  ON  A   TOWER. 

"  I  can  do  nothing.  I  have  ceased  to  study,  ceased 
to  observe.  The  equatorial  is  useless  to  me.  This 
affection  I  have  for  you  absorbs  my  life,  and  out- 
weighs my  intentions.  The  power  to  labor  in 
this  grandest  of  fields  has  left  me.  I  struggle  against 
the  weakness  till  I  think  of  the  cause,  and  then  I  bless 
her.  But  the  very  desperation  of  my  circumstances 
has  suggested  a  remedy;  and  this  I  would  inform  you 
of  at  once. 

"  Can  you  come  to  me,  since  I  must  not  come  to  you? 
I  will  wait  to-morrow  night  at  the  edge  of  the  planta- 
tion by  which  you  would  enter  to  the  column.  I 
will  not  detain  you  ;  my  plan  can  be  told  in  ten 
words." 

The  night  after  posting  this  missive  to  her  he  wait- 
ed at  the  spot  mentioned.  It  was  a  melancholy  even- 
ing for  coming  abroad.  A  blusterous  wind  had  risen 
during  the  day,  and  still  continued  to  increase.  Yet 
he  stood  watchful  in  the  darkness,  and  was  ultimately 
rewarded  by  discerning  a  shady,  muffled  shape  that 
embodied  itself  from  the  field,  accompanied  by  the 
scratching  of  silk  over  stubble.  There  was  no  longer 
any  disguise  as  to  the  nature  of  their  meeting.  It  was 
a  lover's  assignation,  pure  and  simple;  and  boldly  re- 
alizing it  as  such,  he  clasped  her  in  his  arms. 

"  I  cannot  bear  this  any  longer !"  he  exclaimed. 
"Three  months  since  I  saw  you  alone!  Only  a  glimpse 
of  you  in  church,  or  a  bow  from  the  distance,  in  all 
that  time!  What  a  fearful  struggle  this  keeping  apart 
has  been!" 

"  Yet  I  would  have  had  strength  to  persist,  since  it 
seemed  best,"  she  murmured,  when  she  could  speak, 
"  had  not  your  words  on  your  condition  so  alarmed 
and  saddened  me.  This  inability  of  yours  to  work,  or 
study,  or  observe, — it  is  terrible  !  So  terrible  a  sting 
is  it  to  my  conscience  that  your  words  about  a  remedy 
have  brought  me  instantly." 

"  Yet  I  don't  altogether  mind  it,  since  it  is  you,  my 
dear  lady,  who  have  displaced  the  work:  and  yet  the 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  lOl 

loss  of  time  nearly  distracts  me,  when  I  have  neither 
the  power  to  work  nor  the  delight  of  your  company." 

"  But  your  remedy!  Oh,  I  cannot  help  guessing  it! 
Yes,  you  are  going  away!" 

".Let  us  ascend  the  column;  we  can  speak  more  at 
ease  there.  Then  I  will  explain  all.  I  would  not  ask 
you  to  climb  so  high,  but  the  hut  is  not  yet  furnish- 
ed." 

He  entered  the  cabin  at  the  foot,  and,  having  lighted 
a  small  lantern,  conducted  her  up  the  hollow  stair- 
case to  the  top,  where  he  closed  the  slides  of  the  dome 
to  keep  out  the  wind,  and  placed  the  observing-chair 
for  her. 

"  I  can  stay  only  five  minutes,"  she  said,  without 
sitting  down.  "  You  said  it  was  important  that  you 
should  see  me,  and  I  have  come.  I  assure  you  it  is  at 
a  great  risk.  If  I  am  seen  here  at  this  time  I  am 
ruined  forever.  But  what  would  I  not  do  for  you  ? 
Oh,  Swithin,  your  remedy — is  it  to  go  away?  There 
is  no  other;  and  yet  I  dread  that  like  death!" 

"  I  can  tell  you  in  a  moment,  but  I  must  begin  at 
the  beginning.  All  this  ruinous  idleness  and  distract- 
ion IS  caused  by  the  misery  of  our  not  being  able  to 
meet  with  freedom.  The  fear  that  something  may 
snatch  you  from  me  keeps  me  in  a  state  of  perpetual 
apprehension." 

"  It  is  too  true  also  of  me.  I  dread  that  some  acci- 
dent may  happen,  and  waste  my  days  in  meeting  the 
trouble  half-way." 

"So  our  lives  go  on,  and  our  labors  stand  still. 
Now  for  the  remedy.  Dear  Lady  Constantine,  allow 
me  to  marr}'  you." 

She  started,  and  the  wind  without  shook  the  build- 
ing, sending  up  a  yet  intenser  moan  from  the  firs. 

•'  I  mean,  marry  you  quite  privately.  Let  it  make 
no  difference  whatever  to  our  outward  lives  for  years, 
for  I  know  that  in  my  present  position  you  could  not 
possibly  acknowledge  me  as  a  husband  pubHcly.  But 
by  marrying  at  once  we  secure  the  certainty  tliat  we 
cannot  be  divided  by  accident,  coaxing,  or  artifice;  and. 


I02  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

at  ease  on  that  point,  I  shall  embrace  my  studies  with 
the  old  vigor,  and  you  yours." 

Lady  Constantine  was  so  agitated  at  the  unexpect- 
ed boldness  of  such  a  proposal  from  one  hitherto  so 
boyish  and  deferential  that  she  sank  into  the  observ- 
ing-chair,  her  intention  to  remain  for  only  a  few  min- 
utes being  quite  forgotten. 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands.  "  No,  no — I 
dare  not'"  she  whispered. 

"  But  is  there  a  single  thing  else  left  to  do?"  he 
pleaded  kneeling  down  beside  her,  less  in  supplication 
than  in  abandonment.     "  What  else  can  we  do?" 

"Wait  till  you  are  famous  " 

"  Bui  I  cannot  be  famous  unless  I  strive,  and  this 
distracting  condition   prevents  all  striving." 

"  Could  you  not  strive  on  if  I — give  you  a  promise, 
a  solemn  promise,  to  be  yours  when  your  name  is  fairly 
well  known?" 

St.  Cleeve  breathed  heavily.  "It  will  be  a  long, 
weary  time,"  he  said.  "  And  even  with  your  promise 
I  shall  work  but  half-heartedly.  Every  hour  of  study 
will  be  interrupted  with:  'Suppose  this  or  that  hap- 
pen;' Suppose  somebody  persuades  her  to  break  her 
promise;'  worse  still:  '  S-^.ppose  some  rival  maligns 
me,  and  so  seduces  her  away.'  No,  Lady  Constantine, 
dearest,  best,  as  you  are,  that  element  of  distraction 
would  still  remain,  and  where  that  is,  no  sustained  en- 
ergy is  possible.  Many  erroneous  things  have  been 
written  and  said  by  the  sages,  but  never  did  they  float 
a  greater  fa.llacy  than  that  an  ardent  love  serves  as  a 
stimulus  to  win  the  loved  one  by  patient  toil." 

"  I  cannot  argue  with  you,"  she  said,  weakly. 

"  My  only  other  chance  would  lie  m  going  away," 
he  resumed,  after  a  moment's  reflection,  with  his  eyes 
on  the  lantern  flame,  which  waved  and  smoked  in  the 
currents  of  air  that  leaked  into  the  dome  from  the 
fierce  wind-stream  without.  "  If  I  might — take  away 
the  equatorial,  supposing  it  possible  that  I  could  find 
some  suitable  place  for  observing  in  the  southern 
hemisphere — say  at  the  Cape — I  niighthtablo.  to  apply 
myself  to  serious  work  again,  after  the  lapse  of  a  little 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  1 03 

time.  The  southern  constellations  offer  a  less  ex- 
hausted field  for  investigation.     I  wonder  if  I  might!" 

"You  mean,"  she  answered,  uneasily,  "that  you 
might  apply  yourself  to  work  when  your  recollection 
of  me  began  to  fade,  and  my  life  to  become  a  matter 
of  indifference  to  you.  .  .  .  Yes,  go  !  No — I  cannot 
bear  it !  The  remedy  is  worse  than  the  disease.  I 
cannot  let  you  go  away  !  " 

"  Then  how  can  you  refuse  the  only  condition  on 
which  I  can  stay,  without  ruin  to  my  purpose  and 
scandal  to  your  name  ?  Dearest,  eigree  to  my  pro- 
posal, as  you  love  both  me  and  yourself  !  " 

He  waited,  while  the  fir-trees  rubbed  and  prodded 
the  base  of  the  tower,  and  the  wind  roared  around 
and  shook  it ;  but  she  could  not  find  words  to  reply. 

"  Would  to  God,"  he  burst  out,  "  that  I  might  per- 
ish here,  like  Winstanley  in  his  lighthouse  !  Then  the 
difficulty  would  be  solved  for  you." 

"You  are  so  wrong,  so  very  wrong,  in  saying  so  !" 
she  exclaimed,  passionately.  "  You  may  doubt  my 
wisdom,  pity  my  short-sightedness  ;  but  there  is  one 
thing  you  do  know — that  I  love  you  dearly  !  " 

"  You  do — I  know  it!"  he  said,  softened  in  a  mo- 
ment. "  But  it  seems  such  a  simple  remedy  for  the 
difficulty  that  I  cannot  see  how  you  can  mind  adopt- 
ing it,  if  you  care  as  much  for  me  as  I  do  for  you." 

"  Should  we  live — just  as  we  are,  exactly — suppos- 
ing I  agreed  ?  "  she  faintly  inquired. 

"Yes,  that  is  my  idea." 

"Quite  privately,  you  say.  How  could — the  mar- 
riage be  quite  private  ?  " 

"  I  would  go  away  to  London  and  get  a  license. 
Then  you  could  come  to  me,  and  return  again  imme- 
diately after  the  ceremony.  I  could  return  at  leisure, 
and  not  a  soul  in  the  world  would  know  what  had 
taken  place.  Think,  dearest,  with  what  a  free  con- 
science you  could  then  assist  me  in  my  efforts  to 
plumb  these  deeps  above  us  !  Any  feeling  that  you 
may  now  have  against  clandestine  meetings  as  such 
would  then  be  removed,  and  our  hearts  would  then  be 
at  rest." 


104  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

There  was  a  certain  scientific  practicability  even  in 
his  love-making,  and  it  here  came  out  excellently. 
But  she  sat  on  with  suspended  breath,  her  heart  wildly 
beating,  while  he  waited  in  open-mouthed  expectation. 
Each  was  swayed  by  the  emotion  within  them,  much 
as  the  candle  flame  was  swayed  by  the  tempest  with- 
out. It  was  the  most  critical  evening  of  their  lives. 
The  pale  rays  of  the  little  lantern  fell  upon  her  emo- 
tional face,  snugly  and  neatly  bound  in  her  black 
bonnet,  but  not  a  beam  leaked  out  to  suggest  to  any 
watchful  eye  that  human  life  at  its  highest  excitement 
might  be  beating  within  that  dark  and  isolated  tower  ; 
for  the  dome  had  no  windows,  and  every  shutter  that 
afforded  an  opening  for  the  telescope  was  hermetically 
closed.  Predilections  and  misgivings  so  equally  strove 
within  her  still  youthful  breast  that  she  could  not 
utter  a  word  ;  her  intention  wheeled  this  way  and  that 
like  the  balance  of  a  watch.  His  unexpected  propo- 
sition had  brought  about  the  smartest  encounter  of  in- 
clination with  prudence,  of  impulse  with  reserve,  that 
she  had  ever  known. 

Of  all  the  reasons  that  she  had  expected  him  to  give 
for  his  urgent  request  to  see  her  this  evening,  an  offer 
of  marriage  was  probably  the  last.  Whether  or  not 
she  had  ever  amused  herself  with  hypothetical  fancies 
on  such  a  subject, — and  it  was  only  natural  that  she 
should  vaguely  have  done  so, — the  courage  in  her  pro- 
tege  coolly  to  advance  it,  without  a  hint  from  herself 
that  such  a  proposal  would  be  tolerated,  showed  her 
that  there  was  more  in  his  character  than  she  had 
reckoned  on;  and  the  discovery  almost  frightened  her. 
The  humor,  attitude,  and  tenor  of  her  attachment  had 
been  of  quite  an  unpremeditated  quality,  unsuggest- 
ive  of  any  such  audacious  solution  to  their  distress  as 
this. 

"  I  repeat  my  question,  dearest,"  he  said,  after  her 
long  pause.  "  Shall  it  be  done  ?  Or  shall  I  exile  my- 
self, and  study  as  best  I  can,  in  some  distant  country, 
out  of  sight  and  sound  ?  " 

"Are  those  the  only  alternatives  ?  Yes,  yes;  I  sup- 
pose they  are!  "     She  waited  yet  another  moment,  bent 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  105 

over  his  kneeling  figure,  and  kissed  his  forehead. 
"  Yes;  it  shall  be  done,"  she  whispered.  "  I  will  marry 
you." 

"  My  angel,  I  am  content!  " 

"  I  am  weaker  than  you, — far  the  weaker,"  she  went 
on,  her  tears  falling.  "  Rather  than  lose  you  out  of 
my  sight  I  will  marry  without  stipulation  or  condition. 
But — I  put  it  to  your  kindness — grant  me  one  litde 
request." 

He  instantly  assented. 

"  It  is  that,  in  consideration  of  my  peculiar  position 
in  this  county, — oh,  you  can't  understand  it  ! — you 
will  not  put  an  end  to  the  absolute  secrecy  of  our  re- 
lationship without  my  full  assent.  Also,  that  you  will 
never  come  to  Welland  House  without  first  discussing 
with  me  the  advisability  of  the  visit,  accepting  my 
opinion  on  the  point.  There,  see  how  a  timid  woman 
tries  to  fence  herself  in  !  " 

"  My  dear  lady-love,  neither  of  those  two  high-hand- 
ed courses  should  I  have  taken,  even  had  you  not 
stipulated  against  them.  The  very  essence  of  our 
marriage  plan  is  that  those  two  conditions  are  kept.  I 
see  as  well  as  you  do,  even  more  than  you,  how  im- 
portant it  is  that  for  the  present — more,  for  along  time 
hence — I  should  still  be  but  the  curate's  lonely  son, 
unattached  to  anybody  or  anything,  with  no  object  of 
interest  but  his  science;  and  you  the  recluse  lady  of 
the  manor,  to  whom  he  is  only  an  acquaintance." 

"See  what  deceits  love  sows  in  honest  minds  !  " 

"It  would  be  a  humiliation  to  you  at  present  that  I 
could  not  bear  if  a  marriage  between  us  were  made 
public;  an  inconvenience  without  any  compensating 
advantage." 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  assume  it  without  my  setting  it 
before  you  !  Now  I  know  you  are  not  only  good  and 
true,  but  politic  and  trustworthy." 

"  Well,  then,  here  is  our  covenant.  My  lady  swears 
to  marry  me;  I,  in  return  for  such  great  courtesy, 
swear  never  to  compromise  her  by  intruding  at  Wel- 
land House,  and  to  keep  the  marriage  concealed  till  J 
have  won  a  position  worthy  of  her." 


lo6  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

"  Or  till  I  request  it  to  be  made  known,"  she  added, 
possibly  foreseeing  a  contingency  which  had  not  oc- 
curred to  him. 

"  Or  till  you  request  it,"  he  repeated. 

"  It  is  agreed,"  murmured  Lady  Constantine. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

A  FTER  this  there  only  remained  to  be  settled  be- 
■^  tween  them  the  practical  details  of  the  project. 
These  were  that  he  should  leave  home  in  a  couple  of 
days,  and  take  lodgings  either  in  the  city  of  Melches- 
ter,  or  in  a  convenient  suburb  of  London,  till  a  suffi- 
cient time  should  have  elapsed  to  satisfy  legal  require- 
ments; that  on  a  fine  morning  at  the  end  of  this  time 
she  should  hie  away  to  the  same  place,  and  be  met  at 
the  station  by  St.  Cleeve,  armed  with  the  marriage 
license;  whence  they  should  at  once  proceed  to  the 
church  fixed  upon  for  the  ceremony,  returning  home 
independently  in  the  course  of  the  next  two  or  three 
days. 

While  these  tactics  were  under  discussion,  the  two- 
and-thirty  winds  of  heaven  continued,  as  before,  to 
beat  about  the  tower,  though  their  onsets  appeared  to 
be  somewhat  lessening  in  force.  Himself  now  calmed 
and  satisfied,  Swithin,  as  is  the  want  of  humanity, 
took  serener  views  of  Nature's  crushing  mechanics 
without,  and  said:  "The  wind  seems  indisposed  to 
put  the  tragic  period  to  our  hopes  and  fears  that  I 
spoke  of  in  my  momentary  despair." 

"  The  disposition  of  the  wind  is  as  vicious  as  ever," 
she  answered,  looking  into  his  face  with  pausing 
thoughts  on,  perhaps,  other  subjects  than  that  dis- 
cussed. "  It  is  your  mood  of  viewing  it  that  has 
changed.  'There  is  nothing  either  good  or  bad  but 
thinking  makes  it  so.'  " 

And,  as  if  flatly  to  stultify  Swithm's  assumption,  a 
circular  hurricane,  exceeding  in  violence  any  that  had 
preceded  it,  seized  hold  upon  Ring's-Hiil  Speerat  that 


7}V0  ON  A    TOWER.  loj 

moment  with  the  determination  of  a  conscious  agent. 
The  first  sensation  of  a  resulting  catastrophe  was  con- 
veyed to  their  intelligence  by  the  flapping  of  the  can- 
dle-flame against  the  lantern-glass;  then  the  wind, 
which  hitherto  they  had  heard  rather  than  felt,  rubbed 
by  them  like  a  passing  fugitive.  Swithin  beheld 
around  and  above  him,  in  place  of  the  concavity  of 
the  dome,  the  open  heaven,  with  its  racing  clouds,  re- 
mote horizon,  and  intermittent  gleam  of  stars.  The 
dome  that  had  covered  the  tower  had  been  whirled  off 
bodily,  and  they  heard  it  descend,  crashing,  upon  the 
trees. 

Finding  himself  untouched,  Swithin  stretched  out 
his  arms  toward  Lady  Constantine,  whose  apparel 
had  been  seized  by  the  spinning  air,  nearly  lifting  her 
off  her  legs.  She,  too,  was  as  yet  unharmed.  Each 
held  the  other  for  a  moment,  when,  finding  that  noth- 
ing farther  happened,  they  took  shelter  in  the  staircase. 

"  Dearest,  what  an  escape !"  he  said,  still  holding 
her. 

"  What  is  the  accident  ?"  she  asked.  "  Has  the 
whole  top  really  gone  ?" 

"  The  dome  has  been  blown  off  the  roof." 

As  soon  as  it  was  practicable  he  relit  the  lantern, 
which  had  been  extinguished,  and  they  emerged  again 
upon  the  leads,  where  the  extent  of  the  disaster  be- 
came at  once  apparent.  Saving  the  absence  of  the  in- 
closing hemisphere,  all  remained  the  same.  The 
dome,  being  constructed  of  wood,  was  light  by  com- 
parison with  the  rest  of  the  structure,  and  the  wheels 
which  allowed  it  horizontal,  or  as  Swithin  expressed 
it,  azimuth  motion,  deprived  it  of  a  firm  hold  \ipon  the 
walls  ;  so  that  it  had  been  lifted  off  them  like  a  cover 
from  a  pot.  The  equatorial  stood  in  the  midst,  as  it 
had  stood  before. 

Having  executed  its  grotesque  purpose,  the  wind 
sank  to  comparative  mildness.  Swithin  took  advan- 
tage of  this  lull  by  covering  up  the  instruments  with 
cloths,  after  which  the  betrothed  ones  prepared  to  go 
down-stairs.  But  the  events  of  the  night  had  not  yet 
fully  disclosed  themselves.     At  this  moment  there  was 


lo8  .       .  TIVO  ON  A   TOWER. 

a  sound  of  footsteps,  and  a  knocking  at  the  door  be- 
low. 

"  It  can't  be  for  me!"  said  Lady  Constantine.  "  I  re- 
tired to  my  room  before  leaving  the  house,  and  told 
them  on  no  account  to  disturb  me." 

She  remained  at  the  top,  while  Swithin  went  down 
the  spiral.     In  the  gloom  he  beheld  Hannah. 

"  Oh,  Master  Swithin,  can  ye  come  home  ?  The 
wind  have  blown  down  the  chimley  that  don't  smoke, 
and  the  gable  with  it  ;  and  the  old  ancient  house,  that 
have  been  in  your  family  so  long  as  the  memory  of 
man,  is  bare  to  the  wide  world.  It  is  a  mercy  that 
your  grammer  was  not  killed,  sitting  by  the  hearth, 
poor  old  soul,  and  not  long  to  be  with  us — for  'a's 
getting  feeble  on  her  pins,  Mr.  Swithin,  as  folks  do. 
As  I  say,  'a  was  all  but  murdered  by  the  open  elements, 
and  doing  no  more  harm  than  the  babe  in  the  wood, 
not  speaking  one  harmful  word  ;  and  the  fire  and 
the  smoke  were  blowed  all  across  the  room  like  a 
chapter  m  Revelation  ,  and  your  poor  reverent  father's 
bescorched  to  flakes,  looking  like  the  vilest  ruffian,  and 
the  gilt-edge  frame  spoiled.  Every  flitch,  every  eye- 
piece, and  every  chop  is  buried  under  the  walling;  and 
I  fed  them  pigs  with  my  own  hands.  Master  Swithin, 
little  thinking  they  would  come  to  this  unnatural  end. 
Do  ye  collect  yourself,  Mr.  Swithin,  and  come  at  once!" 

"  I  will — I  will.  I'll  follow  you  in  a  moment.  Do 
you  hasten  back  and  assist." 

When  Hannah  had  departed,  the  young  man  ran  up 
to  Lady  Constantine,  to  whom  he  explained  the  acci- 
dent. After  sympathizing  with  old  Mrs.  Martin,  Lady 
Constantine  said;  "  I  thought  something  would  occur 
to  mar  our  scheme  !" 

"  I  am  not  quite  sure  of  that  yet." 

On  a  short  consideration  with  him,  she  agreed  to 
wait  at  the  top  ot  the  tower  till  he  could  come  back  and 
inform  her  if  the  accident  were  really  so  serious  as  to 
interfere  with  his  plan  of  departure.  He  then  left  her, 
and  she  sat  down  in  the  dark,  alone,  looking  over  the 
parapet,  and  straining  her  eyes  in  the  direction  of  the 
homestead. 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  109 

At  first  all  was  obscurity  ;  but  when  he  had  gone 
about  ten  minutes  lights  began  to  naove  to  and  fro  in 
the  hollow  where  the  house  stood,  and  shouts  occas- 
ionally mingled  with  the  wind,  which  retained  some 
violence  yet,  playing  over  the  trees  beneath  her  as  on  the 
pipes  of  an  organ.  But  not  a  bough  of  them  was  visible, 
a  cloak  of  blackness  covering  everything  netherward  ; 
while  overhead  the  broad  windy  sky  looked  down  with 
a  strange,  disguised  face,  the  three  or  four  stars  that 
alone  were  visible  being  so  dissociated  by  clouds  that 
she  knew  not  which  they  were. 

Under  any  other  circumstances  Lady  Constantine 
might  have  felt  a  nameless  fear  in  thus  sitting  aloft  on 
a  lonely  column,  with  a  forest  groaning  under  her  U'tt, 
and  palaeolithic  dead  men  feeding  its  roots  ;  but  the 
recent  passionate  decision  stirred  her  pulses  to  an  in- 
tensity beside  v/hich  the  ordinary  tremcrs  of  feminine 
existence  asserted  themselves  in  vain.  The  apocalyptic 
effect  of  the  scene  surrounding  her  was,  indeed,  not  in- 
harmonious, and  afforded  an  appropriate  background 
to  her  intentions. 

After  what  seemed  to  her  an  interminable  long  time, 
quick  steps  in  the  staircase  became  audible  above  the 
roar  of  the  firs,  and  in  a  few  instants  St.  Cleeve  stood 
beside  her.  The  case  of  the  homestead  was  serious. 
Hannah's  account  had  not  been  exaggerated  in  sub- 
stance ;  the  gable  end  of  the  house  was  open  to  the 
garden  ;  the  joists,  left  without  support,  had  dropped, 
and  with  them  the  upper  floor.  By  the  help  of  some 
laborers,  who  lived  near,  and  Lady  Constantine's  man 
Anthony,  who  was  passing  at  the  time,  the  homestead 
had  been  propped  up,  and  protected  for  the  night  by 
some  rick  cloths  ;  but  Swithin  felt  that  it  would  be 
selfish  in  the  highest  degree  to  leave  two  lonely  women 
to  themselves  at  this  juncture,  "  In  short,"  he  con- 
cluded despondently,  "I  cannot  go  to  stay  in  Mel- 
chester  or  London  just  now  ;  perhaps  not  for  another 
fortnight !" 

"  Never  mind,"  she  said,  cheeringly.  "A  fortnight 
hence  will  do  as  well." 

"And  I  have  these  for  you,"  he  continued.     "Your 


no  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

man  Green  was  passing  my  grandmother's,  on  his  way 
back  from  Warborne,  where  he  had  been,  he  says,  for 
any  letters  that  had  come  for  you  by  the  evening  post. 
As  he  stayed  to  assist  the  other  men,  I  told  him  I 
would  go  on  to  your  house  with  the  letters  he  had 
brought.  Of  course  I  did  not  tell  him  I  should  see 
you  here." 

"  Thank  you.  Of  course  not.  Now  I'll  return  at 
once." 

In  descending  the  column  her  eye  fell  upon  the 
superscription  of  one  of  the  letters,  and  she  opened 
and  glanced  over  it  by  the  lantern  light.  She  seemed 
startled,  and,  musing,  said  :  "  The  postponement  of 
our — intention  must  be,  I  fear,  for  a  long  time,  I  find 
that  after  the  end  of  the  month  I  cannot  leave  home 
safely  even  for  a  day."  Perceiving  that  he  was  about 
to  ask  why,  she  added  .  "  I  will  not  trouble  you  with 
the  reason  now  ;  it  would  only  harass  you.  It  is  only 
a  family  business,  and  cannot  be  helped." 

"Then  we  cannot  be  married  till — God  knows 
when  !"  said  Swithin,  blankly.  "  I  cannot  leave  home 
till  after  the  next  week  or  two ;  you  cannot  leave 
home  unless  withm  that  time.     So   what   are   we   to 

do  r 

"I  don't  know." 

"My  dear,  dear  one,  don't  let  us  be  beaten  like  this  ! 
Don't  let  a  well-considered  plan  be  overthrown  by  a 
mere  accident  '  Here's  a  remedy.  Do  you  go  and 
stay  the  requisite  time  in  the  parish  we  are  to  be  mar- 
ried in,  instead  of  me.  When  my  grandmother  is 
again  well  housed,  I  can  come  to  you,  instead  of  you 
to  me,  as  we  first  said.     Then  it  can  be  done  in  time." 

Reluctantly,  shyly,  and  yet  with  a  certain  gladness 
of  heart,  she  gave  way  to  his  proposal  that  they  should 
change  places  in  the  programme.  There  was  much 
she  did  not  like  in  it,  she  said.  It  seemed  to  her  as  if 
she  were  taking  the  initiative  by  going  and  attending 
to  the  preliminaries.  It  was  the  man's  part  to  do  that, 
in  her  opinion,  and  was  usually  undertaken  by  him. 

"  But,"  argued  Swithin,  "  there  are  many  cases  in 
which  the   woman  does  give   the   notices,  and  so  on ; 


TfVO  ON  A    TO  WER.  1 1 1 

that  is  to  say,  when  the  man  is  absolutely  hindered 
from  doing  so  ;  and  ours  is  such  a  case.  The  seeming 
is  nothing  ;  I  know  the  truth,  and  what  does  it  mat- 
ter ?  You  do  not  refuse — retract  your  word  to  be  my 
wife,  because,  to  avoid  a  sickening  delay,  the  formali- 
ties'require  you  to  attend  to  them  instead  of  me?" 

She  did  not  refuse,  she  said.  In  short,  she  agreed 
to  his  entreaty.  They  had,  in  truth,  gone  so  far  in 
their  dream  of  union  that  there  was  no  drawing  back 
now.  Whichever  of  them  was  forced  by  circumstances 
to  be  the  protagonist  in  the  enterprise,  the  thing  must 
be  done.  Their  intention  to  become  husband  and 
wife,  at  first  halting  and  timorous,  had  accumulated 
momentum  with  the  lapse  of  hours,  till  it  now  bore 
down  every  obstacle  in  its  course. 

"Since  you  beg  me  to — since  there  is  no  alternative 
between  my  going  and  a  long  postponement,"  she 
said,  as  they  stood  in  the  dark  porch  of  Welland 
House  before  parting — "since  I  am  to  go  first,  and 
seem  to  be  pioneer  in  this  adventure,  promise  me, 
Swithin,  promise  your  Viviette,  that  in  years  to  come, 
when  perhaps  you  may  not  love  me  so  warmly  as  you 
do  now " 

"That  will  never  be." 

"Well,  hoping  it  will  not,  but  supposing  it  should, 
promise  me  that  you  will  never  reproach  me  as  the 
one  who  took  the  initiative  when  it  should  have  been 
yourself,  forgetting  that  it  was  at  your  request; 
promise  that  you  will  never  say  I  showed  immodest 
readiness  to  do  so,  or  anything  which  may  imply  your 
obliviousness  to  the  fact  that  I  act  in  obedience  to  ne- 
cessity and  your  earnest  prayer." 

Need  it  be  said  that  he  promised  never  to  reproach 
her  with  that  or  any  other  thing  as  long  as  they 
should  live?  The  few  details  of  the  reversed  arrange- 
ment were  soon  settled,  Melchester  being  the  place 
finally  decided  on.  Then,  with  a  warm  audacity 
which  events  had  encouraged,  he  pressed  her  to  his 
breast,  and  she  silently  entered  the  house.  He  re- 
turned  to  the  homestead,  there  to  attend  to  the  un- 


112  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

expected  duties  of  repairing  the  havoc  wrought  by  the 
gale. 

That  night,  in  the  solitude  of  her  chamber,  Lady 
Constantine  reopened  and  read  the  subjoined  letter, — 
one  of  those  handed  to  her  by  St.  Cleeve: — 


;t,  Piccadilly,  ) 
r  15,  18-.  \ 


—  Street,  Piccadilly, 
October 


Dear  Viviette:  You  will  be  surprised  to  learn 
that  I  am  in  England,  and  that  I  am  again  out  of 
harness — unless  you  should  have  seen  the  latter  in  the 
papers.  Rio  Janeiro  may  do  for  monkeys,  but  it 
won't  do  for  me.  Having  resigned  the  appointment, 
I  have  returned  here,. as  a  preliminary  step  to  finding 
another  vent  for  my  energies;  in  other  words,  another 
milch  cow  for  my  sustenance.  I  knew  nothing  what- 
ever of  your  husband's  death  till  two  days  ago;  so 
that  any  letter  from  you  on  the  subject,  at  the  time  it 
became  known,  must  have  miscarried.  Hypocrisy  at 
such  a  moment  is  worse  than  useless,  and  I  therefore 
do  not  condole  with  you,  particularly  as  the  event, 
though  new  to  a  banished  man  like  me,  occurred  so 
long  since.  You  are  better  without  him,  Viviette,  and 
are  now  just  the  limb  for  doing  something  for  your- 
self, notwithstanding  the  threadbare  state  in  which 
you  seem  to  have  been  cast  upon  the  world.  You  are 
still  young,  and,  as  I  imagine  (unless  you  have  vastly 
altered  since  I  beheld  you),  good-looking:  therefore 
make  up  your  mind  to  retrieve  your  position  by  a 
match  with  one  of  the  local  celebrities,  and  you  would 
do  well  to  begin  drawing  neighboring  covers  at  once. 
A  genial  'squire,  with  more  weight  than  wit,  more 
realty  than  weight,  and  more  personalty  than  realty 
(considering  the  circumstances),  would  be  best  for 
you.  You  might  make  a  position  for  us  both  by  some 
such  alliance;  for,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  have  had  but  in- 
and-out  luck  so  far.  I  shall  be  with  you  in  little  more 
than  a  fortnight,  when  we  will  talk  over  the  matter 
seriously,  if  you  don't  object.  Your  affectionate 
brother,  Louis. 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  I13 

It  was  this  allusion  to  her  brother's  coming  visit 
which  had  caught  her  eye  in  the  tower  staircase,  and 
led  to  a  modification  in  the  wedding  arrangement. 

Having  read  the  letter  through  once,  Lady  Con- 
stantine  flung  it  aside  with  a  vigor  that  shook  the 
decaying  old  floor  and  casement.  Its  contents  pro- 
duced perturbation,  misgiving,  but  not  retreat.  The 
circumambient  glow  of  enchantment  shed  by  the  idea 
of  a  private  union  with  her  beautiful  young  lover 
killed  the  pale  light  of  cold  reasoning  from  an  indiffer- 
ently good  relative.  "Oh,  no,"  she  murmured,  as  she 
sat,  covering  her  face  with  her  hand.  "  Not  for  wealth 
untold  could  I  give  him  up  now  !  " 

No  argument,  short  of  Apollo  himself  from  the 
clouds,  would  have  influenced  her.  She  made  her 
preparations  for  departure  as  if  nothing  had  intervened. 


CHAPTER   VII. 


I 


N  her  days  of  prosperity  Lady  Constantine  had  often 
stayed  at  Melchester,  either  frivolously,  for  shopping 
purposes,  or  musico-religiously,  to  attend  choir  festi- 
vals in  the  cathedral  ;  so  there  was  nothing  surprising 
in  her  reverting  to  an  old  practice.  That  the  journey 
might  appear  to  be  of  a  somewhat  similar  nature  she 
took  with  her  the  servant  who  had  been  accustomed  to 
accompany  her  on  former  occasions,  though  the  wo- 
man, having  now  left  her  service,  and  settled  in  the 
village  as  the  wife  of  Anthon}'-  Green,  with  a  young 
child  on  her  hands,  could  with  some  difficulty  leave 
home.  Lady  Constantine  overcame  the  anxious 
mother's  scruples  by  providing  that  young  Green 
should  be  well  cared  for  ;  and  knowing  that  she  could 
count  upon  this  woman's  fidelity,  if  upon  anybody's, 
in  case  of  an  accident  (for  it  was  chiefly  Lady  Constan- 
tine's  exertions  that  had  made  an  honest  wife  of  Mrs. 
Green),  she  departed  for  a  fortnight's  absence. 

The  next  day  found   mistress  and  maid   settled   in 
lodgings  in  an  old  brick  street,  which  a  hundred  years 


114  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

ago  could  boast  of  rank  and  fashion  among  its  resi- 
dents ;  now  the  broad  fan-light  over  each  broad  door 
admitted  the  sun  only  to  the  halls  of  a  caretaker.  The 
lamp-posts  were  still  those  that  had  done  duty  with 
oil  lights  ;  and  rheumatic  old  coachmen  and  postilions, 
that  once  had  driven  and  ridden  gloriously  from  Lon- 
don to  Land's  End,  ornamented  with  their  bent  persons 
and  bow  legs  the  pavement  in  front  of  the  chief  inn, 
in  the  sorry  hope  of  earning  sixpence  to  keep  body  and 
soul  together. 

"  We  are  kept  well  informed  on  the  time  o'  day,  my 
lady,"  said  Mrs.  Green,  as  she  pulled  down  the  blinds 
in  Lady  Constantine's  room,  on  the  evening  of  their 
arrival.  "  There  's  a  church  exactly  at  the  back  of  us, 
and  I  hear  every  hour  strike." 

Lady  Constantine  said  she  had  noticed  that  there 
was  a  church  quite  near. 

"Well,  it  is  better  to  have  that  at  the  back  than 
other  folks'  winders.  And  if  your  ladyship  wants  to 
go  there  it  won't  be  far  to  walk." 

"That's  what  occurred  to  me,"  said  Lady  Constan- 
tine,— "//"  I  should  want  to  go." 

During  the  ensuing  days  she  felt  to  the  utmost  the 
tediousness  of  waiting  merely  that  time  might  pass. 
She  went  to  and  from  shops,  with  Green  as  her  com- 
panion. Though  there  were  purchases  to  be  made, 
they  were  by  no  means  of  a  pressing  nature,  and  but 
poorly  filled  up  the  vacancies  of  those  strange,  specula- 
tive days — days  surrounded  by  a  penumbra  of  fear, 
yet  poetized  by  sweet  expectation. 

On  the  fourteenth  day  she  told  Green  that  she  was 
goidg  to  the  cathedral  close,  and  leaving  the  house  she 
passed  in  under  the  nearest  archway  to  that  spot, 
where,  wandering  about  beneath  the  rooks'  nests  till 
her  courage  was  screwed  to  its  highest,  she  went 
round  to  the  other  side,  and  searched  about  for  a 
certain  door,  which  she  reached  just  at  the  moment 
when  her  heart  began  to  sink  to  its  very  lowest,  render- 
ing all  the  screwing  up  in  vain. 

Whether  it  was  because  the  month  was  October,  or 
from  any  other  reason,  the  deserted  aspect  of  the  close 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  115 

in  general  sat  specially  on  this  building.  Moreover 
the  pavement  was  up,  and  heaps  of  stone  and  gravel 
obstructed  the  footway.  Nobody  was  coming,  nobody 
was  going,  in  that  thoroughfare:  she  appeared  to  be 
the  single  one  of  the  human  race  bent  upon  marriage 
business,  which  seemed  to  have  been  unanimously 
abandoned  by  all  the  rest  of  the  world  as  proven  folly. 
But  she  thought  of  Swithin,  his  blonde  hair  and  ar- 
dent eyes  and  eloquent  lips,  and  was  carried  onward 
by  the  very  reflection. 

Entering  the  surrogate's  room.  Lady  Constantine 
managed  at  the  last  juncture  to  state  her  errand  in 
tones  so  collected  as  to  startle  even  herself;  to  which 
her  listener  replied  also  as  if  the  whole  thing  were 
the  most  natural  in  the  world.  When  it  came  to  the 
affirmation  that  she  had  lived  fifteen  days  in  the  par- 
ish, she  said,  with  dismay:  "Oh,  no!  I  thought  the 
fifteen  days  meant  the  interval  of  residence  before 
the  marriage  takes  place.  I  have  lived  here  only  four- 
teen days  and  a-half.      Now  I  must  come  again!" 

"  Oh — well — heh-heh — I  think  you  need  not  be  so 
particular,"  said  the  surrogate.  "  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
though  the  letter  of  the  law  requires  fifteen  days'  resi- 
dence, many  people  make  five  sufficient.  The  provis- 
ion is  inserted,  as  you  doubtless  are  aware,  to  hinder 
runaway  marriages  as  much  as  possible,  and  secret 
unions,  and  other  such  objectionable  practices.  You 
need  not  come  again." 

That  evening  Lady  Constantine  wrote  to  Swithin 
St.  Cleeve  the  last  letter  of  the  fortnight: — 

My  Dearest: — Do  come  to  me  as  soon  as  you  can. 
By  a  sort  of  favoring  blunder  I  have  been  able  to 
shorten  the  time  of  waiting  by  a  day.  Come  at  once, 
for  I  am  almost  broken  down  with  apprehension.  It 
seems  rather  rash  at  moments,  all  this,  and  I  wish  you 
were  here  to  reassure  me.  I  did  not  know  I  should 
feel  so  alarmed.  I  am  frightened  at  every  footstep, 
and  dread  lest  anybody  who  knows  me  should  accost 
me,  and  find  out  why  I  am  here.  I  sometimes  wonder 
how  I  could  have  agreed  to  come  and  enact  your  part, 


1 1 6  T  WO  ON  A    TO  WER. 

but  I  did  not  realize  how  trying  it  would  be.  You 
ought  not  to  have  asked  me,  Swithin;  upon  my  word, 
it  was  too  cruel  of  you,  and  I  will  punish  you  for  it 
when  you  come.  But  I  won't  upbraid.  I  hope  the 
homestead  is  repaired  that  has  cost  me  all  this  sacri- 
fice of  modesty.  If  it  were  anybody  in  the  world  but 
you  in  question,  I  would  rush  home,  without  waiting 
here  to  see  the  end  of  it — I  really  think  I  would!  But, 
dearest,  no.  I  must  show  my  strength  now,  or  let  it 
be  forever  hid.  The  barriers  of  ceremony  are  bro- 
ken down  between  us,  and  it  is  for  the  best  that  I  am 
here. 

And  yet,  at  no  point  of  this  trying  prelude  need 
Lady  Constantine  have  feared  for  her  strength. 
Deeds  in  this  connection  demand  the  particular  kind 
of  courage  that  such  perfervid  women  are  endowed 
with;  the  courage  of  their  emotions,  in  which  young 
men  are  cften  lamentably  deficient.  Her  fear  was,  in 
truth,  the  fear  of  being  discovered  in  an  unwonted  po- 
sition; not  of  the  act  itself.  And  though  her  letter 
was  in  its  way  a  true  exposition  of  her  feeling,  had  it 
been  necessary  to  go  through  the  whole  Mel- 
chester  process  over  again,  she  would  have  been  found 
equal  to  the  emergency. 

It  had  been  for  some  days  a  point  of  anxiety  with  her 
what  to  do  with  Green  during  the  morning  of  the 
wedding.  Chance  unexpectedly  helped  her  in  this 
difficulty.  The  day  before  the  purchase  of  the  license. 
Green  came  to  Lady  Constantine  with  a  letter  in  her 
hand  from  her  husband,  Anthony,  her  face  as  long  as 
a  fiddle. 

"  I  hope  there's  nothing  the  matter?"  said  Lady 
Constantine. 

"The  child's  took  bad,  my  lady!"  said  Mrs.  Green, 
with  floods  of  water  in  her  eyes.  "I  love  the  child 
better  than  I  shall  love  all  them  that's  coming  put  to- 
gether; for  he's  been  a  good  boy  to  his  mother  ever 
since  twelve  weeks  afore  he  was  born.  'T  was  he,  a 
tender  deary,  that  made  Anthony  marry  me,  and 
thereby  turned  hisself  from  a  little  calamity  to  a  little 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  H7 

blessing!  For  the  man  were  a  backward  man  in  the 
church  part  o'  matrimony,  my  lady;  though  he  '11  do 
anything  when  he  's  forced  a  bit  by  his  manly  feelings. 
And  now  to  lose  the  child — hoo-hoo-oo-oo —  What 
shall  I  do!" 

"Well,  you  want  to  go  home  at  once,  I  suppose?" 
Mrs.  Green  explained,  between  her  sobs,  that  such 
was  her  desire;  and  though  this  was  a  day  or  two 
sooner  than  her  mistress  had  wished  to  be  left  alone, 
she  consented  to  Green's  departure.  So,  during  the 
afternoon,  her  woman  went  off,  with  directions  to  pre- 
pare for  Lady  Constantine's  return  in  two  or  three 
days.  But  as  the  exact  day  of  her  return  was  uncer- 
tain, no  carriage  was  to  be  sent  to  the  station  to  meet 
her,  her  intention  being  to  hire  one  from  the  hotel. 
Lady  Constantine  was  now  left  in  utter  solitude  to 
await  her  lover's  arrival. 


CHAPTER  XVin. 


A 


MORE  beautiful  October  morning  than  that  of 
the  next  day  never  beamed  into  the  Welland  val- 
leys. The  yearly  dissolution  of  leafage  was  setting 
in  apace.  The  foliage  of  the  park  trees,  as  it  had  rap- 
idly resolved  itself  into  this  complexion  and  that 
through  the  subtle  grades  of  decay,  reflected  lights  of 
such  innumerable  hues  that  it  was  a  wonder  to  think 
their  beauties  only  a  repetition  of  what  had  been  ex- 
hibited on  scores  of  previous  Octobers  by  predeces- 
sors, which  yet  had  been  allowed  to  pass  away  with- 
out a  single  dirge  from  the  imperturbable  beings  who 
walked  among  them.  Far  in  the  shadows  semi-opaque 
screens  of  blue  haze  made  mysteries  of  the  common- 
est gravel-pit,  dingle,  or  recess. 

The  wooden  cabin  at  the  foot  of  Ring's-Hill  Speer 
had  been  furnished  by  Swithin  as  a  sitting  and  sleep- 
ing apartment,  some  little  while  before  this  time;  for 
he  had  found  it  highly  convenient,  during  night  ob- 
servations at  the  top  of  the   column,  to  remain  on  the 


Ii8  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

spot  all  night,  not  to  disturb  his  grandmother  by 
passing  in  and  out  of  the  house,  and  to  save  himself 
the  labor  of  incessantly  crossing  the  field. 

He  would  much  have  liked  to  tell  her  the  secret, 
and  had  it  been  his  own  to  tell  would  probably  have 
done  so;  but  sharing  it  with  an  objector  who  knew  not 
his  grandmother's  affection  so  well  as  he  did  himself, 
there  was  no  alternative  to  holding  his  tongue.  The 
more  effectually  to  guard  it  he  decided  to  sleep  at  the 
cabin  during  the  two  or  three  nights  previous  to  his 
departure,  leaving  word  at  the  homestead  that  in  a 
day  or  two  he  was  going  on  an  excursion. 

It  was  very  necessary  to  start  early.  Long  before 
the  great  eye  of  the  sun  was  lifted  high  enough  to 
dip  into  the  Welland  valley,  St.  Cleeve  arose  from  his 
bed  in  the  cabin  and  prepared  to  depart,  cooking  his 
breakfast  upon  a  little  stove  in  the  corner.  The 
young  rabbits  littered  during  the  foregoing  summer 
watched  his  preparations  through  the  open  door  from 
the  gray  dawn  without,  as  he  bustled,  half  dressed,  in 
and  out  under  the  boughs,  and  among  the  blackber- 
ries and  brambles  that  grew  around.  It  was  a  strange 
place  for  a  bridegroom  to  perform  his  toilet  in,  but, 
considering  the  unconventional  nature  of  the  mar- 
riage, a  not  inappropriate  one.  What  events  had  been 
enacted  in  that  earthen  camp  since  it  was  first  thrown 
up,  nobody  could  say;  but  the  primitive  simplicity  of 
the  young  man's  preparations  accorded  well  with  the 
prehistoric  spot  on  which  they  were  made.  Embedded 
under  his  feet  were  possibly  even  now  many  rude 
trinkets  that  had  been  worn  at  bridal  ceremonies  of 
the  early  inhabitants.  Little  signified  those  ceremo- 
nies to-day,  or  the  happiness  or  otherwise  of  the  con- 
tracting parties.  That  his  own  rite,  nevertheless,  sig- 
nifies much  is  the  inconsequent  reasoning  of  many 
another  bridegroom  than  Swithin;  and  he,  like  the 
rest,  went  on  with  his  preparations,  in  that  mood 
which  sees  in  his  stale  repetition  the  possibilities  of  an 
original  move. 

Then  through  the  wet  cobwebs,  that  hung  like  mov- 
able diaphragms  on  each  blade  and  bough,  he  pushed 


TPVO  07V  A    TO  WER.  1 1 9 

his  way  down  to  the  furrow  which  led  from  the  fir- 
tree  island  to  the  wide  world  beyond  the  field. 

He  was  not  a  stranger  to  enterprise,  and  still  less  to 
the  contemplation  of  enterprise;  but  an  enterprise 
such  as  this,  dictated  by  the  grand  passion,  he  had 
never  even  outlined.  That  his  dear  lady  was  troubled 
at  the  situation  he  had  placed  her  in  by  not  going 
himself  on  that  errand  he  could  see  from  her  letter; 
but  believing  an  immediate  marriage  with  her  to  be 
the  true  way  of  restoring  to  both  that  equanimity  ne- 
cessary to  serene  philosophy,  he  held  it  of  little  ac- 
count how  the  marriage  was  brought  about,  and  hap- 
pily began  his  journey  towards  her  place  of  sojourn. 
Passing  through  a  little  copse  before  leaving  the  par- 
ish, the  smoke  of  the  newly  lit  fires  of  which  rose  like 
the  stems  of  trees  out  of  the  tew  cottage  chimneys, 
he  heard  a  quick,  familiar  footstep  in  the  path  ahead 
of  him,  and,  turning  the  coiner  of  the  bushes,  con- 
fronted the  foot-post  on  his  way  to  Welland.  In  an- 
swer to  St.  Cleeve's  inquiry  if  there  was  anything  for 
himself,  the  postman  handed  out  one  letter,  and  pro- 
ceeded on  his  route. 

Swithin  opened  and  read  the  letter  as  he  walked, 
till  it  brought  him  to  a  standstill  by  the  sheer  weight 
of  its  contents.  They  were  enough  to  agitate  a  more 
phlegmati:  youth  than  he.  He  leaned  over  the  wicket 
which  came  in  his  path,  and  endeavored  to  compre- 
hend the  sense  of  the  whole. 

The  large  long  envelope  contained,  first,  a  letter  from 
a  solicitor  in  a  northern  town,  informing  him  that  his 
paternal  great-uncle,  who  had  recently  returned  from 
the  Cape  (whither  he  had  gone  in  an  attempt  to  repair 
a  broken  constitution),  was  now  dead  and  buried.  This 
great-uncle's  name  was  like  a  new  creation  to  Swithin. 
He  had  held  no  communication  with  the  young  man's 
branch  of  the  family  for  innumerable  years — never, 
in  fact,  since  the  marriage  of  Swithin's  father  with  the 
simple  daughter  of  Welland  farm.  He  had  been  a 
bachelor  to  the  end  of  his  life,  and  amassed  a  fairly 
good  professional  fortune  by  a  long  and  extensive 
medical  practice  in  the  smoky,  dreary  manufacturing 


I20  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

town  in  which  he  had  lived  and  died.  Swithin  had  al- 
ways been  taught  to  think  of  him  as  the  embodiment 
of  all  that  was  unpleasant  in  man.  He  was  narrow, 
sarcastic,  and  shrewd  to  unseemliness.  That  very- 
shrewdness  had  enabled  him,  without  much  profession- 
al profundity,  to  establish  his  large  and  lucrative  con- 
nection, which  lay  almost  entirely  among  a  class  who 
neither  looked  nor  cared  for  drawing-room  courtesies. 

However,  what  Dr.  St.  Cleeve  had  been  as  a  practi- 
tioner matters  little.  He  was  now  dead,  and  the  bulk 
of  his  property  had  been  left  to  persons  with  whom 
this  story  has  nothing  to  do.  But  Swithin  was  inform- 
ed that  out  of  it  there  was  a  bequest  of  ;^4oo  a  year 
to  himself — payment  of  which  was  to  begin  with  his 
twenty-first  year,  and  continue  for  his  life,  unless  he 
should  marry  before  reaching  the  age  of  twenty-five, 
in  which  precocious  and  objectionable  event  his  an- 
nuity would  be  forfeited.  The  accompanying  letter, 
said  the  solicitor,  would  explain  all. 

This,  the  second  letter,  was  from  his  uncle  to  him- 
self, written  about  a  month  before  the  former's  death, 
and  deposited  with  his  will,  to  be  forwarded  to  his 
nephew  when  that  event  should  have  taken  place. 
Swithin  read,  with  the  solemnity  that  such  posthu- 
mous epistles  inspire,  the  following  words  from  one 
who,  during  life,  had  never  once  addressed  him: 

"  Dear  Nephew. — You  will  doubtless  experience 
some  astonishment  at  receiving  a  communication  from 
one  whom  you  have  never  personally  known,  and  who, 
when  this  comes  into  your  hands,  will  be  beyond  the 
reach  of  your  knowledge.  Perhaps  I  am  the  loser  by 
this  life-long  mutual  ignorance.  Perhaps  I  am  much 
to  blame  for  it;  perhaps  not.  But  such  reflections 
are  profitless  at  this  date;  I  have  written  with  quite  other 
views  than  to  work  up  a  sentimental  regret  on  such  an 
amazingly  remote  hypothesis  as  that  the  fact  of  a  par- 
ticular pair  of  people  not  meeting,  among  the  millions 
of  other  pairs  of  people  who  have  never  met,  is  a  great 
calamity  either  to  the  world  in  general  or  to  them- 
selves. 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  12 1 

"The  occasion  of  my  addressing  you  is  briefly  this  : 
Nine  months  ago  a  report  casually  reached  me  that 
your  scientific  studies  were  pursued  by  you  with  great 
ability,  and  that  you  were  a  young  man  of  some  prom- 
ise as  an  astronomer.  My  own  scientific  proclivities 
rendered  the  report  more  interesting  than  it  might 
otherwise  have  been  to  me  ;  and  it  came  upon  me 
quite  as  a  surprise  that  any  issue  of  your  father's  mar- 
riage should  have  so  much  in  him,  or  you  might  have 
seen  more  of  me  in  former  years  than  you  are  ever 
likely  to  do  now.  My  health  had  then  begun  to  fail, 
and  I  was  starting  for  the  Cape,  or  I  should  have  come 
myself  to  inquire  into  your  condition  and  prospects. 
I  did  not  return  till  six  months  later,  and,  as  my  health 
had  not  improved,  I  sent  a  trusty  friend  to  examine 
into  your  life,  pursuits,  and  circumstances,  without 
your  own  knowledge,  and  to  report  his  observations 
to  me.  This  he  did.  Through  him  I  learned,  of 
favorable  news  : — 

"(i.)  That  you  w^orked  assiduously  at  the  science  of 
astronomy. 

"  (2.)  That  everything  was  auspicious  in  the  career 
you  had  chosen. 

''Of  unfav(>rable  news  : — 

"  (i.)  That  the  small  income  at  your  command,  even 
when  eked  out  by  the  sum  to  which  you  would  be  en- 
titled on  your  grandmother's  death  and  the  freehold 
of  the  homestead,  would  be  inadequate  becomingly  to 
support  you  as  a  scientific  man,  whose  lines  of  work 
were  of  a  nature  not  calculated  to  produce  an  income 
for  many  years,  if  ever. 

"  (2.)  That  there  was  something  in  your  path  worse 
than  narrow  means,  and  that  that  something  was  a 
woman. 

"To  save  you,  if  possible,  from  ruin  on  these  heads, 
I  take  the  preventive  measures  detailed  below. 

"  The  chief  step  is,  as  my  solicitor  will  have  in- 
formed you,  that  the  sum  of  ;;^4oo  a  year  be  settled  on 
you  for  life,  provided  you  do  not  marr}'  before  reach- 
ing the  age  of  twenty-five — the  annuity  to  begin  at 
the  end  of  the  first  six  months  after  you  reach  the  age 


122  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

of  twenty-one  ;  and,  vice  versa,  that  if  you  do  marry 
before  reaching  that  age  you  will  receive  nothing 
thenceforward. 

"One  object  of  my  bequest  is  that  you  may  have 
resources  sufficient  to  enable  you  to  travel  and  study 
the  Southern  constellations.  When  at  the  Cape,  after 
hearing  of  your  pursuits,  I  was  much  struck  with  the 
importance  of  these  constellations  to  an  astronomer 
just  pushing  into  notice.  There  is  more  to  be  made 
of  the  Southern  hemisphere  than  ever  has  been  made 
of  it  yet  ;  the  mine  is  not  so  thoroughly  worked  as 
the  Northern,  and  thither  your  studies  should  tend. 

"The  only  other  preventive  step  in  my  power  is 
that  of  exhortation,  at  which  I  am  not  an  adept. 
Nevertheless,  I  say  to  you,  Swithin  St.  Cleeve,  don't 
make  a  fool  of  yourself,  as  your  father  did.  If  your 
studies  are  to  be  worth  anything,  believe  me,  they 
must  be  carried  on  without  the  help  of  a  woman. 
Avoid  her,  and  every  one  of  the  sex,  if  you  mean  to 
achieve  any  worthy  thing.  Eschew  all  of  that  sort  for 
many  a  year  yet.  Moreover,  I  say,  the  lady  of  your 
acquaintance  avoid  in  particular.  I  have  heard 
nothing  against  her  moral  character  hitherto;  I  have 
no  doubt  it  has  been  excellent.  She  may  have  many 
good  qualities,  both  of  heart  and  of  mind.  But  she 
has,  in  addition  to  her  original  disqualification  as  a 
companion  for  you  (that  is,  that  of  sex)  these 
two  serious  drawbacks:  she  is  much  older  than  your- 
self—" 

^^ Much  older!"  said  Swithin,  resentfully. 

" — and  she  is  so  impoverished  that  the  title  she  de- 
rives from  her  late  husband  is  a  positive  objection. 
Beyond  this,  frankly,  I  don't  think  well  of  her.  I 
don't  think  well  of  any  woman  who  dotes  upon  a  man 
younger  than  herself.  She's  half,  or  quarter,  a 
foreigner,  is  she  not? — or  is  it  only  her  name?  To 
care  to  be  the  first  fancy  of  a  young  fellow  like  you 
shows  no  great  common  sense  in  her.  If  she  were 
worth  her  salt,  she  would  have  too  much  pride  to  be 
intimate  with  a  youth  in  your  unassured  position,  to 
say   no   worse.     She    is    old   enough  to  know  that  a 


TWO  ON- A   TOWER.  123 

liaison  with  her  may,  and  almost  certainly  would,  be 
your  ruin;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  that  a  marriage 
would'  be  preposterous — unless  she  is  a  complete 
fool,  and  in  that  case  there  is  even  more  reason 
iot  avoiding  her  than  if  she  wsre  in  her  few  senses. 

"A  woman  of  honorable  feeling,  nephew,  would  be 
careful  to  do  nothing  to  hinder  you  in  your  career,  as 
this  putting  of  herself  in  your  way  most  certainly  will. 
Yet  I  hear  that  she  professes  a  great  anxiety  on  this 
same  future  of  yours  as  a  physicist.  The  best  way  in 
which  she  can  show  the  reality  of  her  anxiety  is  by 
leaving  you  to  yourself.  Perhaps  she  persuades  her- 
self that  she  is  doing  you  no  harm.  Well,  let  her  have 
the  benefit  of  the  possible  belief;  but  depend  upon  it 
that  in  truth  she  gives  the  lie  to  her  conscience  by 
maintaining  such  a  transparent  fallacy.  Women's 
brains  are  not  formed  for  assisting  at  any  profound 
science:  they  lack  the  power  to  see  things  except  in 
the  concrete.  She  '11  blab  your  most  secret  plans 
and  theories  to  every  one  of  her  acquaintance — " 

"She's  got  none!"  said  Swithin,  beginning  to  get 
warm. 

" — and  make  them  appear  ridiculous  by  announcing 
them  before  they  are  matured.  If  you  attempt  to 
study  with  a  woman,  you  '11  be  ruled  by  her  to  enter- 
tain fancies  instead  of  theories,  air-castles  instead  of 
intentions,  qualms  instead  of  opinions,  sickly  pre- 
possessions instead  of  reasoned  conclusions.  Your 
wide  heaven  of  study,  young  man,  will  soon  reduce 
itself  to  the  miserable  narrow  expanse  of  her 
face,  and  your  myriad  of  stars  to  her  two  trumpery 
eyes. 

"A  woman  waking  your  passions  just  at  a  moment 
when  you  are  endeavoring  to  shine  intellectually  is 
like  stirring  up  the  mud  at  the  bottom  of  a  clear 
brook.  All  your  brightness  and  sparkle  are  taken 
away;  you  become  moping  and  thick-headed;  obstruc- 
tions that  before  only  brought  out  your  brilliancies 
now  distort  and  disfigure  your  each  dull  attempt  to 
surmount  them. 

"Like  a  certam  philosopher,  I  would,  upon  my  soul, 


124  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

have  all  young  men  from  eighteen  to  five-and-twenty 
kept  under  barrels:  seeing  how  often,  in  the  lack  oi 
some  such  sequestering  process,  the  woman  sits  down 
before  each  as  his  destiny,  and  too  frequently  enervates 
his  purpose,  till  he  abandons  the  most  promising 
course  ever  conceived. 

"  But  no  more.  I  now  leave  your  fate  in  your  own 
hands.     Your  well-wishing  relative, 

"  JocELYN  St.  Cleeve, 

"Doctor  in  Medicine." 

As  coming  from  a  bachelor  and  hardened  misogy- 
nist of  seventy-two,  the  opinions  herein  contained 
nothing  remarkable;  but  their  practical  result  in  re- 
stricting the  sudden  endowment  of  Swithin's  re- 
searches by  conditions  which  turned  the  favor  into  a 
harassment  was,  at  this  unique  moment,  discomfiting 
and  distracting  in  the  highest  degree. 

Sensational,  however,  as  the  letter  was,  the  passion- 
ate intention  of  the  day  was  not  hazarded  for  more 
than  a  few  minutes  thereby.  The  truth  was,  the  cau- 
tion and  bribe  came  too  late — too  unexpectedly,  to  be 
of  influence.  They  were  the  sort  of  thing  which  re- 
quired fermentation  to  render  them  effective.  Had 
St.  Cleeve  received  the  exhortation  a  month  earlier — 
had  he  been  able  to  run  over  in  his  mind,  at  every  wake- 
ful hour  of  thirty  consecutive  nights,  a  private  cate- 
chism on  the  possibilities  opened  up  by  this  annuity, 
there  is  no  telling  what  might  have  been  the  stress  of 
such  a  web  of  perplexity  upon  him — a  young  man 
whose  love  for  celestial  physics  was  second  to  none. 
But  to  have  held  before  him,  at  the  last  moment,  the 
picture  of  a  future  advantage  that  he  had  never  once 
thought  of,  or  discounted  for  present  staying  power, 
it  affected  him  about  as  much  as  the  view  of  horizons 
shown  by  sheet-lightning.  He  saw  an  immense  pros- 
pect; it  went,  and  the  world  was  as  before. 

He  caught  the  train  at  Warborne,  and  moved  rapid- 
ly toward  Melchester;  not  precisely  in  the  same  key 
as  when  he  had  dressed  in  the  hut  at  dawn,  but,  as  re- 
garded the  mechanical  furtherances  of  the  journey,  as 


TWO  0 A' A    TOWER.  125 

unhesitatingly  as  before.  And  with  the  change  of 
scene  even  his  gloom  left  him;  his  bosom's  lord  sat 
lightly  in  his  throne.  St.  Cleeve  was  not  sufficiently 
in  mind  of  poetical  literature  to  remember  that  wise 
poets  are  accustomed  to  read  that  lightness  inversely. 
Swithin  thought  it  an  omen  of  good  fortune,  and  as 
thinking  is  causing  in  not  a  few  such  '^as^s,  he  was, 
perhaps,  in  spite  of  poets,  right. 


A' 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

T  the  station  Lady  Constantine  appeared,  stand- 
ing expectant;  he  saw  her  face  from  the  window 
of  the  carriage  long  before  she  saw  him.  He  no  sooner 
saw  her  than  he  was  satisfied  to  his  heart's  content 
with  his  prize.  If  his  great-uncle  had  offered  him, 
from  the  grave,  a  kingdom  instead  of  her,  he  would 
not  have  accepted  it.  Swithin  jumped  out,  and  nature 
never  painted  in  a  woman's  face  more  devotion  than 
appeared  in  my  lady's  at  that  moment.  To  both  the 
situation  seemed  like  a  beautiful  allegor}',  not  to  be 
examined  too  closely,  lest  its  defects  of  correspondence 
with  real  life  should  be  apparent. 

They  almost  feared  to  shake  hands  in  public,  so 
much  depended  upon  their  passing  that  morning 
without  molestation.  A  fly  was  called,  and  they  drove 
away. 

"Take  this,"  she  said,  handing  him  a  folded  paper. 
"It  belongs  to  you  rather  than  to  me." 

At  crossings,  and  other  occasional  pauses,  pedes- 
trians turned  their  faces  and  looked  at  the  pair  (for 
no  reason  but  that,  among  so  many,  there  were  neces- 
sarily a  few  of  the  sort  who  have  eyes  to  note  what 
incidents  chance  holds  before  them  as  they  plod  on); 
but  the  two  in  the  vehicle  could  not  but  fear  that 
these  innocent  beholders  had  special  detective  designs 
on  them. 

While  driving  round  the  close,  a  fine-looking  man, 
of  middle  age,  came  from  the  palace  gates,  and  struck 


126  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

across  the  grass  by  a  foot-path.  He  wore  a  corded 
shovel  hat  of  glossy  beaver,  and  black  breeches. 

"Who  is  he?     The  bishop,  I  suppose,"  said  Swithin. 

"Yes,"  Lady  Constantine  replied.  "Dr.  Helms- 
dale. I  have  seen  him  two  or  three  times  since  my 
arrival.     He   is  but  lately  consecrated,  as  you  know." 

Nothing  further  happened,  and  they  were  set 
down  opposite  a  shop,  about  fifty  yards  from  the 
church  door,  at  five  minutes  to  eleven. 

"We  will  dismiss  the  fly,"  she  said.  "It  will  only 
attract  idlers." 

On  turning  the  corner  and  reaching  the  church,  they 
found  the  door  ajar;  but  the  building  contained  only 
two  persons,  a  man  and  a  woman — the  clerk  and  his 
wife,  as  they  learned.  Swithin  asked  when  the  clergy- 
man would  arrive. 

The  clerk  looked  at  his  watch,  and  said:  "At  just 
on  eleven  o'clock." 

"  He  ought  to  be  here,"  said  Swithin. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  clerk,  as  the  hour  struck.  "The 
fact  is,  sir,  he  is  a  deputy,  and  apt  to  be  rather  wan- 
dering in  his  understanding  as  regards  time  and  such 
like,  which  hev  stood  in  the  way  of  the  man's  getting  a 
benefit.     But  no  doubt  he'll  come." 

"  The  regular  incumbent  is  away,  then?" 

"  He's  gone  for  his  bare  pa'son's  fortnight — that's 
all;  and  was  forced  to  put  up  with  a  weak-talented 
man  or  none.  I'll  tell  ye  what,  sir:  I  think  I'd  better 
run  round  to  the  gentleman  's  lodgings,  and  try  to  find 
him." 

"Pray  do,"  said  Lady  Constantine. 

The  clerk  left  the  church;  his  wife  busied  herself 
with  dusting  at  the  further  end,  and  Swithin  and  Viv- 
iette  were  left  to  themselves.  The  imagination  trav- 
els so  rapidly,  and  a  woman's  forethought  is  so  as- 
sumptive, that  the  clerk's  departure  had  no  sooner 
doomed  them  to  inaction  than  it  was  borne  in  upon  La- 
dy Constantine's  mind  that  she  would  not  become  the 
wife  of  Swithin  St.  Cleeve,  either  to  day  or  on  any 
other  day.     Her  divinations  were  continually  mislead- 


TWO  OiV  A    TOWER.  127 

ing  her,  she  knew;  but  a  hitch  at  the  moment  of  mar- 
riage surely  had  a  meaning  in  it. 

"  Ah— 7the  marriage  is  not  to  be!'  she  said  to  herself. 
"This  is  a  fatality." 

It  was  twenty  minutes  past,  and  no  parson  had  ar- 
rived. Swithin  took  her  hand.  "  If  it  cannot  be  to- 
day, it  can  be  to-morrow,"  he  whispered. 

"I  cannot  say,"  she  answered.  "  Something  tells 
me  no." 

It  was  almost  impossible  that  she  could  know  any- 
thing of  the  deterrent  force  exercised  on  Swithin  by 
his  dead  uncle  that  morning.  Yet  her  manner  tallied 
so  curiously  well  with  such  knowledge  that  he  was 
struck  by  it,  and  remained  silent. 

"  You  have  a  black  tie,"  she  continued,  looking  at 
him. 

"Yes,"  replied  Swithin.  "I  bought  it  on  my  way 
here." 

"Why  could  it  not  have  been  less  somber  in  col- 
or?" 

"  My  great-uncle  is  dead." 

"  You  had  a  great-uncle  ?     You  never  told  me." 

"  I  never  saw  him  in  my  life.  I  have  only  heard 
about  him  since  his  death.  He  spoke  in  as  quiet  and 
measured  a  way  as  he  could,  but  his  heart  was  sinking. 
She  would  go  on  questioning;  he  could  not  tell  her  an 
untruth.  She  would  discover  particulars  of  that  great- 
uncle's  provision  for  him,  which  he,  Swithin,  was 
throwing  away  for  her  sake,  and  she  would  refuse  to 
be  his  for  his  own  sake.  His  conclusion  at  this  momciit 
was  precisely  what  hers  had  been  five  minutes  sooner: 
they  were  never  to  be  husband  and  wife. 

But  she  did  not  continue  her  questions,  for  the  sim- 
plest of  all  reasons:  hasty  footsteps  were  audible  in 
the  entrance,  and  the  parson  was  seen  coming  up  the 
aisle,  the  clerk  behind  him  wiping  the  beads  of  per- 
spiration from  his  face.  The  somewhat  sorry  clerical 
specimen  shook  hands  with  them,  and  entered  the 
vestry;  and  the  clerk  came  up  and  opened  the  book. 

"The  poor  gentleman's  memory  is  a  bit  topsy- 
turvy," whispered  the  latter.     "  He  had  got  it  in  his 


128  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

mind  that    'twere   a   funeral,  and   I  found  him  wan 
dering  about  the  cemetery  a  looking  for  us.    However 
all's  well  as  ends  well.  '    And  the  clerk  wiped  his  fore, 
head  again. 

"How  ill-omened!"  murmured  Viviette.  But  the 
parson  came  out  robed  at  this  moment,  and  the  clerk 
put  on  his  ecclesiastical  countenance  and  looked  in  his 
book.  Lady  Constantine's  momentary  languor  passed; 
her  blood  resumed  its  courses  with  a  new  spring. 
The  subdued  thunder  of  the  church  then  rolled  out 
upon  the  palpitating  pair,  and  no  couple  ever  joined 
their  whispers  thereto  with  more  fervency  than  they. 

Lady  Constantine  (as  she  for  some  time  continued 
to  be  called  by  the  outside  world,  and  may  therefore 
be  still  called  here)  had  told  Green  that  she  might  be 
expected  at  Welland  in  a  day,  or  two,  or  three,  as  cir- 
cumstances should  dictate.  Though  the  time  of  re- 
turn was  thus  left  open,  it  was  deemed  advisable,  by 
both  Swithen  and  herself,  that  her  journey  back  should 
not  be  deferred  after  the  next  day,  in  case  any  suspi- 
cions might  be  aroused.  As  for  St.  Cleeve,  his  comings 
and  goings  were  of  no  consequence.  It  was  seldom 
known  whether  he  was  at  home  or  abroad,  by  reason 
of  his  frequent  seclusion  at  the  column. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day  he  accompa- 
nied her  to  the  Melchester  station,  intending  himself 
to  remain  in  that  city  till  the  following  morning.  But 
when  a  man  or  youth  has  such  a  tender  article  on  his 
hands  as  a  thirty-hour  bride,  it  is  hardly  in  the  power 
of  his  strongest  reason  to  set  her  down  at  a  railway, 
and  send  her  off  like  a  superfluous  portmanteau; 
wherefore,  the  experiment  of  parting  so  soon  after 
their  union  proved  excruciatingly  severe  to  these. 
The  evening  was  dull;  the  breeze  of  autumn  crept 
fitfully  through  every  slit  and  aperture  in  the  town; 
not  a  soul  in  the  world  seemed  to  notice  or  care  about 
anything  they  did.  Lady  Constantine  sighed;  and 
there  was  no  resisting  it — he  could  not  leave  her  thus. 
He  decided  to  get  into  the  train  with  her,  and  keep 
her  company  for  at  least  a  few  stations  on  her  way. 

It  drew  on  to  be  a  dark  night,  and,  seeing  that  thero 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  1 29 

was  no  serious  risk,  after  all,  he  prolonged  his  journey 
with  her  so  far  as  to  the  junction  at  which  the  branch 
line  to  Warborne  forked  off.  Here  it  was  necessary 
to  wait  a  few  minutes,  before  either  he  could  go  back 
or  she  could  go  on.  They  wandered  outside  the  station 
doorway  into  the  gloom  of  the  road,  and  there  agreed 
to  part. 

While  she  yet  stood  holding  his  arm  a  phaeton  sped 
up  to  the  station  entrance,  where,  in  wheeling  round, 
the  horse  suddenly  jibbed.  The  gentleman  who  was 
driving,  being  either  impatient,  or  possessed  of  a  the- 
ory that  all  jibbers  may  be  started  by  severe  whip- 
ping, because  that  plan  had  answered  with  one  in  fifty, 
applied  the  lash;  as  a  result  of  it,  the  horse  thrust 
round  the  carriage  to  where  they  stood,  and  the  end 
of  the  driver's  sweeping  whip  cut  across  Lady  Con- 
stantine's  face  with  such  severity  as  to  cause  her  an 
involuntary  cry.  Swithen  turned  her  round  to  the 
lamplight,  and  discerned  a  streak  of  blood  on  her 
cheek. 

By  this  time  the  gentleman  who  had  done  the  mis- 
chief, with  many  words  of  regret,  had  given  the  reins 
to  his  man  and  dismounted. 

"I  will  go  to  the  waiting-room  for  a  moment," 
whispered  Viviette,  hurriedly;  and,  loosing  her  hand 
from  his  arm,  she  pulled  down  her  veil  and  vanished 
inside  the  building. 

The  stranger  came  forward  and  raised  his  hat.  He 
was  a  slightly  built  and  apparently  town-bred  man,  of 
twenty-eight  or  thirty  ;  his  manner  of  address  was  at 
once  careless  and  conciliatory.  "  I  am  greatly  concerned 
at  what  I  have  done,"  he  said.  "  I  sincerely  trust  that 
your  wife" — but  observing  the  youthfulnessof  Swithin, 
he  withdrew  the  word  suggested  by  the  manner  of 
Swithin  towards  Lady  Constantine — "  I  trust  the 
young  lady  was  not  seriously  cut.'" 

"  I  trust  not,'   said  Swithin,  with  some  vexation. 

"  Where  did  tlie  lash  touch  her?  " 

"  Straight  down  her  cheek." 

"  Let  me  go  to  her  and  humbly  apologize." 

"I'll   inquire,"     He  went   to    the   ladies'    room,    in 


130  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

which  Viviette  had  taken  refuge.  She  met  him  at  the 
door,  her  handkerchief  to  her  cheek,  and  Swithin 
explained  that  the  driver  of  the  phaeton  had  sent  to 
make  inquiries. 

"I  cannot  see  him  !"  she  whispered.  "He  is  my 
brother  Louis  !  He  is,  no  doubt,  going  on  by  the 
train  to  my  house.     We  must  wait  till  he  is  gone." 

Swithin,  thereupon,  went  out  again,  and  telling  the 
young  man  that  the  cut  on  her  face  was  not  serious, 
but  that  she  could  not  see  him,  after  a  few  words  they 
parted.  St.  Cleeve  then  heard  him  ask  for  a  ticket  for 
Warborne,  which  confirmed  Lady  Constantine's  view 
that  he  was  going  on  to  her  house.  When  the  branch 
train  had  moved  off,  Swithin  returned  to  his  bride, 
who  waited  in  a  trembling  state  within. 

"Is  he  gone?"  she  asked;  and  on  being  informed 
that  he  had  departed,  showed  herself  much  relieved. 

"Where  does  your  brother  come  from?"  said 
Swithin. 

"From  London,  immediately.  Rio  before  that. 
He  has  a  friend  or  two  in  this  neighborhood,  and 
visits  here  occasionally.  I  have  seldom  or  never  spoken 
to  you  of  him,  because  of  his  long  absence." 

"  Is  he  going  to  settle  near  you  ?  " 

"  No,  nor  anywhere,  I  fear.  He  is,  or  rather  was, 
Vn  the  diplomatic  service.  He  was  first  a  clerk  in  the 
foreign  office,  and  was  afterwards  appointed  attache 
at  Rio  Janeiro.  But  he  has  resigned  the  appointment. 
I  wish  he  had  not." 

"  Why  did  he  resign  ?  " 

"  He  complained  of  the  banishment,  and  the  climate, 
and  everything  that  people  complain  of  who  are 
determined  to  be  dissatisfied, — though,  poor  fellow, 
there  is  some  ground  for  his  complaints.  Perhaps 
some  people  would  say  that  he  is  idle.  But  he  is 
scarcely  that  ;  he  is  rather  restless  than  idle,  so  that  he 
never  persists  in  anythmg.  Yet  if  a  subject  takes  his 
fancy  he  will  follow  it  up  with  exemplary  patience  till 
something  diverts  him." 

"  He  is  not  kind  to  you,  is  he,  dearest?" 

"  Why  do  you  think  that  ?  " 


7  PFO  OJV  A    TOWER.  131 

'■Your  manner  seems  to  say  so." 

"  Well,  he  may  not  always  be  kind.  But  look  at  my 
face  ;  does  the  mark  show  ? " 

A  streak,  straight  as  a  meridian,  was  visible  down 
her  check.  The  blood  had  been  brought  almost  to 
the  surface,  but  was  not  quite  through,  that  which  had 
originally  appeared  thereon  having  possibly  come  from 
the  horse.  It  signified  that  to-morrow  the  red  line 
would  be  a  black  one. 

Swithin  informed  her  that  her  brother  had  taken  a 
ticket  for  Warborne,  and  she  at  once  perceived  that  he 
was  going  on  to  visit  her  at  Welland,  though  from  his 
letter  she  had  not  expected  him  so  soon  by  a  few  days. 
"  Meanwhile,"  continued  Swithin,  "you  can  now  get 
home  only  by  the  late  train,  having  missed  that  one." 

"  But,  Swithin,  don't  you  see  my  new  trouble  ?  If  I 
go  to  Welland  House  to-night,  and  find  my  brother 
just  arrived  there,  and  he  sees  this  cut  on  my  face — 
which  I  suppose  you  described  to  him — " 

"I  did." 

" — he  will  know  I  was  the  lady  with  you  !" 

"  Whom  he  called  my  wife.  I  wonder  why  we  look 
husband  and  wife  already!" 

"Then  what  am  I  to  do?  For  the  ensuing  three  or 
four  days  I  bear  in  my  face  a  clew  to  his  discovery  of 
our  secret." 

"Then  you  must  not  be  seen.  We  must  stay  at  an 
inn  here." 

"  Oh,  no  !"  she  said,  timidly.  "  It  is  too  near  home 
to  be  quite  safe.  We  might  not  be  known;  but  if 
we  were  !" 

"  We  can't  go  back  to  Melchester  now.  I'll  tell  you, 
dear  Viviette,  what  we  must  do.  We'll  go  on  to  \Var- 
borne  in  separate  carriages;  we'll  meet  outside  the  sta- 
tion; thence  we'll  walk  to  the  column  in  the  dark,  and 
I'll  keep  you  a  captive  in  the  cabin  till  the  scar  has 
disappeared." 

As  there  was  nothing  which  better  recommended 
itself,  this  course  was  decided  on;  and  after  taking 
from  he^  trunks  the  articles  that  might  be  required 
for  an  incarceration  of  two  or  three   days,  they  left 


132  TPVO  ON  A   TOWER. 

the  said  trunks  at  the  cloak-room,  and  went  on  by  the 
last  train,  which  reached  Warborne  at  ten  o'clock.  It 
was  only  necessary  for  Lady  Constantine  to  cover  her 
face  with  the  thick  veil  that  she  had  provided  for  this 
escapade,  to  walk  out  of  the  station  without  fear  of 
recognition.  St.  Cleeve  came  forth  from  another  com- 
partment, and  they  did  not  rejoin  each  other  till  they 
had  reached  a  shdowy  bend  in  the  old  turnpike  road, 
beyond  the  irradiation  of  the  Warborne  lamplight. 

The  walk  to  Welland  was  long.  It  was  the  walk 
which  Swithin  had  taken  in  the  rain  when  he  had 
learned  the  fatal  forestallment  of  his  stellar  discovery; 
but  now  he  was  moved  by  a  less  desperate  mood,  and 
blamed  neither  God  nor  man.  They  were  not  bound 
for  time,  and  passed  along  the  silent,  lonely  way  with 
that  sense  rather  of  predestination  than  of  choice  in 
their  proceedings  which  the  presence  of  night  some- 
times imparts.  Reaching  the  park  gate  they  found  it 
open,  and  from  this  they  inferred  that  her  brother 
Louis  had  arrived. 

Leaving  the  house  and  park  on  their  right,  they 
traced  the  highway  yet  a  little  further,  and,  plunging 
through  the  stubble  of  the  opposite  field,  drew  near 
the  isolated  earthwork  bearing  the  plantation  and  tow- 
er, which,  together,  rose  like  a  flattened  dome  and  lan- 
tern from  the  light-hued  plain  of  stubble.  It  was  far 
too  dark  to  distinguish  firs  from  other  trees  by  the  eye 
alone,  but  the  peculiar  dialect  of  sylvan  language 
which  the  piny  conclave  used  would  have  been  enough 
to  proclaim  their  quality  at  any  time.  In  the  lovers' 
stealthy  progress  up  the  slopes  a  dry  stick  here  and 
there  snapped  beneath  their  feet,  seeming  like  a  shot 
of  alarm. 

On  being  unlocked,  the  hut  was  found  precisely  as 
Swithin  had  left  it  two  days  before.  Lady  Constan- 
tine was  thoroughly  wearied,  and  sat  down,  while  he 
gathered  a  handful  of  twigs  and  spikelets  from  the 
masses  strewn  without,  and  lit  a  small  fire,  first  taking 
the  precaution  to  blind  the  little  window  and  relock 
the  door.  Lady  Constantine  looked  curiously  around 
by  the  light  of  the  blaze.     The  hut  was  small  as  the 


TWO  0,V  A    TOWER.  133 

prophet's  chamber  provided  by  the  Shunammite;  its 
size  was  about  seven  feet  by  eleven;  in  one  corner 
stood  the  stove,  •w'lXh.  a  little  table  and  chair,  a  small 
cupboard  hard  by,  a  pitcher  of  water,  a  rack  overhead, 
with  various  articles,  including  a  kettle  and  gridiron; 
while  the  other  end  of  the  room  was  fitted  out  as  a 
dormitory  for  Swithin's  use  during  late  observations 
in  the  tower  overhead. 

"  It  is  not  much  of  a  palace  to  offer  you,"  he  remark- 
ed, smiling.     "  But  at  any  rate,  it  is  a  refuge." 

The  cheerful  firelight  dispersed  in  some  measure 
Lady  Constantine's  anxieties.  "  If  we  only  had  some- 
thing to  eat  !  "  she  said. 

"Dear  me,"  cried  St.  Cleeve,  blankly.  "That's  a 
thing  I  never  thought  of." 

"Nor  I,  till  now,"  she  replied. 

He  reflected  with  misgiving.  "  Beyond  a  small  loaf 
of  bread  in  the  cupboard,  I  have  nothing.  However, 
just  outside  the  door  there  are  lots  of  those  little 
rabbits,  about  the  size  of  rats,  that  the  keepers  call 
runners.  And  they  are  as  tame  as  possible.  But  I 
fear  I  could  not  catch  one  now.  Yet,  dear  Viviette, 
wait  a  minute  ;  I'll  try.     You  must  not  be  starved." 

He  softly  let  himself  out,  and  was  gone  some  time. 
When  he  reappeared,  he  produced,  not  a  rabbit,  but 
four  sparrows  and  a  thrusli.  "  I  could  do  nothing  in 
the  way  of  a  rabbit  without  setting  a  wire,"  he  said. 
"  But  I  have  managed  to  get  these  by  knowing  where 
they  roost." 

He  showed  her  how  to  prepare  the  birds,  and  hav- 
ing set  her  to  roast  them  by  the  fire,  departed  with 
the  pitcher,  to  replenish  it  at  the  brook  which  flowed 
near  the  homestead  in  the  neighboring  bottom. 

"  They  are  all  asleep  at  my  grandmother's,"  he  in- 
formed her,  when  he  returned,  panting,  with  the  drip- 
ping pitcher.  "They  imagine  me  to  be  sixty  miles 
off.'"' 

The  birds  were  now  ready,  and  the  table  was  spread. 
With  this  fare,  eked  out  by  dry  toast  from  the  loaf, 
and  moistened  with  cups  of  water  from  the  pitcher,  to 
which   Swithin  added  a  little  wine  from   the  flask  he 


134  TiVO  ON  A    TOWER. 

had  carried  on  his  journey,  they  were  forced   to  be 
content  for  their  supper. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


W^ 


"HEN  Lady  Constantine  awoke,  the  next  morning, 
Swithin  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Before  she 
was  quite  ready  for  breakfast  she  heard  the  key  turn 
in  the  door,  and  felt  startled,  till  she  remembered  that 
the  comer  could  hardly  be  anybody  but  he.  He 
brought  a  basket  with  provisions,  an  extra  cup  and 
saucer  and  so  on.  In  a  short  space  of  time  the  kettle 
began  singing  on  the  stove,  and  the  morning  meal 
was  begun.  The  sweet  resinous  air  from  the  firs  blew 
in  upon  them,  as  they  sat  at  breakfast  ;  the  birds 
hopped  round  the  door  (which,  somewhat  riskily,  they 
ventured  to  keep  open)  ;  and  at  their  elbow  rose  the 
the  tall,  lank  column  into  a  realm  of  sunlight,  which 
only  reached  them  in  fitful  darts  and  flashes. 

"I  could  be  happy  here  forever,"  she  said,  clasping 
his  hand.  "  I  wish  I  could  never  see  my  great  gloomy 
house  again,  since  I  am  not  rich  enough  to  throw  it 
open,  and  live  there  as  I  ought  to  do.  Poverty  of  this 
sort  is  not  unpleasant,  at  any  rate.  What  are  you 
thinking  of? " 

"  I  am  thinking  about  my  outing  this  morning.  On 
reaching  my  grandmother's,  she  was  only  a  little  sur- 
prised to  see  me.  I  was  obliged  to  breakfast  there, 
or  appear  to  do  so,  to  divert  suspicion  ;  and  this  food 
is  supposed  to  be  wanted  for  my  dinner  and  supper. 
There  will  of  course  be  no  difficulty  in  my  obtaining 
an  ample  supply  for  any  length  of  time,  as  I  can  take 
what  I  like  from  the  buttery  without  observation.  But 
as  I  looked  at  my  grandmother's  face  this  morning, 
and  saw  her  looking  affectionately  in  mine,  and  thought 
how  she  had  never  concealed  anything  from  me,  and 
had  always  had  my  welfare  at  heart,  I  felt — that  I 
should  like  to  tell  her  what  we  have  done." 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  135 

"  Oh,  no — please  not,  Swithin  !  "  she  exclaimed, 
piteously. 

"Very  well,"  he  answered.  "On  no  consideration 
will  1  do  so  without  your  assent."  And  no  more  was 
said  on  the  matter. 

The  morning  was  passed  in  applying  wet  rags  and 
other  remedies  to  the  purple  line  on  Viviette's  cheek  ; 
and  in  the  afternoon  they  set  up  the  equatorial 
under  the  replaced  dome,  to  have  it  in  order  for  night 
observations. 

The  evening  was  clear,  dry,  and  remarkably  cold 
by  comparison  with  the  daytime  weather.  After  a 
frugal  supper,  they  replenished  the  stove  with  char- 
coal from  the  homestead,  which  they  also  burnt  dur- 
ing the  day — an  idea  of  Viviette's,  that  the  smoke 
from  a  wood  fire  might  not  be  seen  more  frequently 
than  was  consistent  with  the  occasional  occupation  of 
the  cabin  by  Swithin,  as  heretofore. 

At  eight  o'clock  she  insisted  upon  his  ascending  the 
tower  for  observations,  in  strict  pursuance  of  the  idea 
on  which  their  marriage  had  been  based,  namely,  that 
of  restoring  regularity  to  his  studies. 

The  sky  had  a  new  and  startling  beauty  that  night. 
A  broad,  fluctuating,  semicircular  arch  of  vivid  white 
light  spanned  the  northern  quarter  of  the  heavens, 
reaching  from  the  horizon  to  the  star  Eta  in  the  Great 
Bear.  It  was  the  Aurora  Borealis,  just  risen  up  for 
the  winter  season  out  of  Hie  freezing  seas  of  ihe 
north,  where  every  autumn  vapor  was  now  undergoing 
rapid  congelation. 

"Oh,  let  us  sit  and  look  at  it!"  she  said;  and  they 
turned  their  backs  upon  the  equatorial  and  the  south- 
ern glories  of  the  heavens  to  this  new  beauty  in  a 
quarter  which  they  seldom  contemplated.  The  lustre 
of  the  fi.xed  stars  was  diminished  to  a  sort  of  bhie- 
ness.  Little  by  little  the  arch  grew  higher  against  the 
dark  void,  like  the  form  of  the  spirit-maiden  in  the 
shades  of  Glenfinlas,  till  its  crown  grew  near  the  zen- 
ith, and  threw  a  tissue  over  the  whole  wagon  and 
horses  of  the  great  northern  constellation.  Brilliant 
shafts  radiated  from  the  convexity  of  the  arch,  coming 


136  TWO  0 A' A    TOWER. 

and  going  silently.  The  temperature  fell,  and  Lady 
Constantine  drew  her  wrap  more  closely  around  her. 

"We'll  go  down,"  said  Swithin.  "The  cabin  is 
beautifully  warm.  Why  should  we  try  to  observe  to- 
night? Indeed,  we  cannot;  the  Aurora  light  over- 
powers everything." 

"  Very  well.  To-morrow  night  there  will  be  no  in- 
terruption.    I  shall  be  gone." 

"You  leave  me  to-morrow,  Viviette?" 

"Yes;  to-morrow  morning." 

Indeed,  with  the  progress  of  the  hours  and  days, 
the  conviction  was  borne  in  upon  Viviette  more  and 
more  forcibly  that  not  for  kingdoms  and  principalities 
could  she  afford  to  risk  the  discovery  of  her  presence 
here  by  any  living  soul. 

"But  let  me  see  your  face,  dearest,"  he  said.  "I 
don't  think  it  will  be  safe  for  you  to  meet  your  brother 
yet." 

As  it  was  too  dark  to  see  her  face  on  the  summit 
where  they  sat,  they  descended  the  winding  staircase; 
and  in  the  cabin  Swithin  examined  the  damaged  cheek. 
The  line,  though  broken  up  into  dashes,  and  so  far 
attenuated  as  not  to  be  observable  by  any  one  but  an 
intimate,  had  not  quite  disappeared.  But  in  conse- 
quence of  her  reiterated  and  almost  tearful  anxiety  to 
go,  and  as  there  was  a  strong  probability  that  her 
brother  had  left  the  house,  Swithin  decided  to  call  at 
Welland  next  morning,  and  reconnoitre  with  a  view  to 
her  return. 

Locking  her  in,  he  crossed  the  dewy  stubble  into 
the  park.  The  house  was  silent  and  deserted;  and 
only  one  tall  stalk  of  smoke  ascended  from  the  chim- 
neys. Notwithstanding  that  the  hour  was  hardly  nine, 
he  knocked  at  the  door. 

"Is  Lady  Constantine  at  home?"  asked  Swithin, 
with  a  disingenuousness  now  habitual,  yet  unknown 
to  him  six  months  before. 

"No,  Mr.  St.  Cleve;  my  lady  has  not  returned  from 
Melchester.     We  expect  her  every  day." 

"  Nobody  staying  in  the  house?" 

"  My  lady's  brother  has  been  here,  but  he  is  gone  on 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  137 

to  Budmouth.  He  will  come  again  in  two  or  three 
weeks,  I  understand." 

This  was  enough.  Swithin  said  he  would  call 
again,  and  returned  to  the  cabin,  where,  waking  Viv- 
iette,  who  was  not  by  nature  an  early  riser,  he  waited 
on  the  column  till  she  was  ready  to  breakfast.  When 
this  had  been  shared  they  prepared  to  start. 

A  long  walk  was  before  them.  Warborne  station 
lay  five  miles  distant,  and  the  next  station  above  that, 
nine  miles.  They  were  bound  for  the  latter;  their 
plan  being  that  she  should  there  take  the  train  to  Fil- 
ton  Junction  (where  the  whip  accident  had  occurred), 
claim  her  luggage,  and  return  with  it  to  Warborne,  as 
if  from  Melchester.  The  morning  was  cool,  and  the 
walk  not  wearisome.  When  once  they  had  left  the 
stubble-field  of  their  environment  and  the  parish  of 
Welland  behind,  they  sauntered  on  comfortably,  Lady 
Constantine's  spirits  rising  as  she  withdrew  further 
from  danger. 

They  parted  by  a  little  brook,  about  half-a-mile 
from  the  station;  Swithin  to  return  to  Welland  by  the 
way  he  had  come. 

Lady  Constantine  telegraphed  from  Filton  to  War- 
borne for  a  carriage  to  be  in  readiness  to  meet  her  on 
her  arrival;  and  then,  waiting  for  the  down  train,  she 
traveled  smoothly  home,  reaching  Welland  House 
about  five  minutes  sooner  than  Swithin  reached  the  col- 
umn hard  by,  after  footing  it  all  the  way  from  where 
they  had  parted. 


138  TWO  ON  A    TOWER, 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


"P ROM  that  day  forward  their  lives  resumed  the  old 
channel  in  general  outward  aspect.  Perhaps  the 
most  remarkable  feature  in  their  romantic  exploit  was 
its  comparative  effectiveness  as  an  expedient  for  the 
end  designed — that  of  restoring  calm  assiduity  to  the 
studies  of  these  astronomers.  Swithin  took  up  his 
old  position  as  the  lonely  philosopher  at  the  column, 
and  Lady  Constantine  lapsed  back  to  immured  exist- 
ence at  the  house,  with  apparently  not  a  friend  in  the 
parish.  The  enforced  narrowness  of  life  which  her 
limited  resources  necessitated  was  now  an  additional 
safeguard  agains^  the  discovery  of  her  relationship  with 
Swithin  St.  Cleeve.  Her  neighbors  seldom  troubled 
her;  as  much,  it  must  be  owned,  from  a  tacit  under- 
standing that  she  was  not  in  a  position  to  return  in- 
vitations as  from  any  selfish  coldness  engendered  by 
her  want  of  wealth. 

At  the  first  meeting  of  the  secretly  united  pair  after 
their  short  honeymoon,  they  were  compelled  to  behave 
as  strangers  to  each  other.  It  occurred  in  the  only 
part  of  Welland  which  deserved  the  name  of  a  village 
street,  and  all  the  laborers  were  returning  to  their 
midday  meal,  with  those  of  their  wives  who  assisted 
with  out-door  work.  Before  the  eyes  of  this  innocent, 
though  quite  untrustworthy  group,  Swithin  and  his 
Viviette  could  only  shake  hands  in  passing,  though 
she  contrived  to  say  to  him  in  an  undertone:  "My 
brother  does  not  return  yet  for  some  time.  He  has 
gone  to  Paris.  I  will  be  on  the  lawn  this  evening,  if 
you  can  come."  It  was  a  fluttered  smile  that  she  be- 
stowed on  him,  and  there  was  no  doubt  that  every 
fibre  of  her    heart    vibrated  afresh  at    meeting    with 


rirO  O.V  A    TOWER.  139 

such  reserve,  one  who  stood  in  his  intimate  relation  to 
her. 

The  shades  of  night  fell  early  now,  and  Swithin 
Was  at  the  spot  of  appointment  about  the  time  that  he 
knew  her  dinner  would  be  over.  It  was  just  where 
they  had  met  at  the  beginning  of  the  year,  but  many 
changes  had  resulted  since  then.  The  flower-beds 
that  had  used  to  be  so  neatly  edged,  were  now  jagged 
and  leafy;  black  stars  appeared  on  the  pale  surface  of 
the  gravel  walks,  denoting  tufts  of  grass  that  grew 
unmolested  there.  Lady  Constantine's  external  af- 
fairs wore  just  that  aspect  which  suggests  that  new 
blood  may  be  advantageously  introduced  into  the  line; 
and  new  blood  had  been  introduced,  in  good  sooth — 
with  what  result  remained  to  be  seen. 

She  silently  entered  on  the  scene  from  the  same 
window  which  had  given  her  passage  in  months  gone 
by.  They  met  with  a  concerted  embrace,  and  St. 
Cleeve  spoke  his  greeting  in  whispers. 

"We  are  quite  safe,  dearest,"  said  she. 

"But  the  servants?" 

"My  meagre  staff  consists  of  only  two  and  the  boy; 
and  they  are  away  in  the  other  wing.  I  thought  you 
would  like  to  see  the  inside  of  my  house,  after  show- 
ing me  the  inside  of  yours.  So  we  will  walk  through 
it  instead  of  staying  out  here." 

She  let  him  in  through  the  casement,  and  they 
strolled  forward  softly,  Swithin  never  before  having 
gone  beyond  the  library.  The  whole  western  side  of 
the  house  was  at  this  time  shut  up,  her  life  being  con- 
fined to  two  or  three  small  rooms  in  the  southeast 
corner.  The  great  apartments  through  which  they 
now  whisperingly  walked  wore  already  that  funeral 
aspect  that  comes  from  disuse  and  inattention.  Tri- 
angular cobwebs  already  formed  little  hammocks  for 
the  dust  in  corners  of  the  wainscot,  and  a  close  smell 
of  wood  and  leather,  seasoned  with  mouse-droppings, 
pervaded  the  atmosphere.  So  seldom  was  the  solitude 
of  these  chambers  intruded  on  !iy  human  feet  that 
more    than    once    a    mouse    stood    and    looked    the 


I40  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

twain  in  the  face  from  the  arm  of  a  sofa,  or  the  top  of 
a  cabinet,  without  any  great  fear. 

Swithin  had  no  residential  ambition  whatever,  but 
he  was  interested  in  the  place.  "Will  the  house 
ever  be  thrown  open  to  gayety,  as  it  was  in  old  times?" 
said  he. 

"Not  unless  you  make  a  fortune,"  she  replied 
laughingly.  "It  is  mine  for  life,  as  you  know;  but  the 
estate  is  so  terribly  saddled  with  annuities  to  Sir 
Blount's  distant  relatives,  one  of  whom  will  succeed 
me  here,  that  I  have  practically  no  more  than  my  own 
little  private  income  to  exist  on." 

"And  are  you  bound  to  occupy  the  house?" 

"Yes;  that  was  one  of  the  capricious  conditions." 

"And  was  there  any  stipulation  in  the  event  of  your 
remarriage?" 

"It  was  not  mentioned." 

"It  is  satisfactory  to  find  that  you  lose  nothing  by 
marrying  me,  at  all  events,  dear  Viviette." 

"I  hope  you  lose  nothing, either — at  least,  of  conse- 
quence." 

"What  have  I  to  lose?" 

"I  meant  your  liberty.  Suppose  you  become  a 
popular  physicist  (popularity  seems  cooling  toward 
art  and  coquetting  with  science  nowadays),  and  a  bet- 
ter chance  offers,  and  one  who  would  make  you  a 
newer  and  brighter  wife  than  I  am  comes  in  your  way: 
will  you  never  regret  this?  Will  you  never  despise 
me?" 

Swithin  answered  by  a  kiss,  and  they  again  went 
on;  proceeding  like  a  couple  of  burglars,  lest  they 
should  attract  the  attention  of  the  cook  or  Green. 

In  one  of  the  upper  rooms  his  eyes  were  attracted 
by  an  old  chamber  organ,  which  had  once  been  lent 
for  use  in  the  church.  He  mentioned  his  recollection 
of  the  same,  which  led  her  to  say:  "That  reminds  me 
of  something!  There  is  to  be  a  confirmation  in  our 
parish  in  the  spring,  and  you  once  told  me  that  you 
had  never  been  confirmed.  What  shocking  neglect! 
Why  was  it?" 

"I    hardly    know.      The    confusion    resulting   from 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  141 

my  father's  death  caused  it  to  be  forgotten,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"  Now,  dear  Swithin,  you  will  do  this  to  please  me 
— be  confirmed  on  the  present  occasion." 

"Since  I  have  done  without  the  virtue  of  it  so  long, 
might  I  not  do  without  it  altogether?" 

"No,  no!"  she  said,  earnestly.  "I  do  wish  it,  in- 
deed. I  am  made  unhappy  when  I  think  you  don't 
care  about  such  serious  matters.  Without  the  church 
to  cling  to,  what  have  we?" 

"  Each  other.  But,  seriously,  I  should  be  inverting 
the  established  order  of  spiritual  things  ;  people 
ought    to   be   confirmed    before    they    are    married." 

"That's  really  of  minor  consequence.  Now,  don't 
think  slightingly  of  what  so  many  good  men  have  laid 
down  as  necessary  to  be  done.  And,  dear  Swithin,  I 
somehow  feel  that  a  certain  levity  which  has  perhaps 
shown  itself  in  our  treatment  of  this  sacrament  of 
marriage — by  making  a  clandestine  adventure  of  what 
is,  after  all,  a  solemn  rite — would  be  well  atoned  for 
by  a  due  seriousness  in  other  points  of  religious  ob- 
servance. This  opportunity  should  therefore  not  be 
passed  over.  I  thought  of  it  all  last  night ;  and  you 
are  a  parson's  son,  remember.  In  short,  Swithin,  do 
be  a  good  boy,  and  observe  the   church's  ordinances." 

Lady  Constantine,  by  virtue  of  her  temperament, 
was  necessarily  either  lover  or  devoto,  and  she  vibrated 
so  gracefully  between  these  two  conditions  that  no- 
body who  had  known  the  circumstances  could  have 
condemned  her  inconsistencies.  To  be  led  into  diffi- 
culties by  those  mastering  emotions  of  hers,  to  aim  to 
escape  by  turning  round  and  seizing  the  apparatus  of 
religion  (which,  however,  could  only  rightly  be  worked 
by  those  emotions  already  bestowed  elsewhere) — it 
was,  after  all,  but  Nature's  well-meaning  attempt  to 
preserve  the  honor  of  her  daughter's  conscience  in  the 
trying  quandary  to  which  the  conditions  of  sex  had 
given  birth.  As  Viviette  could  not  be  confirmed  her- 
self, and  as  the  first  Sunday  in  the  month  was  a  long 
way  off,  she  urged  Swithin  thus. 

"And  the  new  bishop  is  such  a  good  man,"  she  con- 


142  TJVO  ON  A    TOWER. 

tinued.  "  Do  you  remember  seeing  him  in  the  cathe- 
dral close  ?     I  liked  the  look  of  him  much." 

"  Very  well,  dearest.  To  please  you  I'll  be  con- 
firmed. My  grandmother,  too,  will  be  delighted,  no 
doubt." 

They  continued  their  ramble  ;  Lady  Constantine 
first  advancing  into  rooms  with  the  candle,  to  assure 
herself  that  all  was  empty,  and  then  calling  him  for- 
ward in  a  whisper.  The  stillness  was  broken  only  by 
these  whispers,  or  the  occasional  crack  of  a  floor-board 
beneath  their  tread.  At  last  they  sat  down,  and, 
shading  the  candle  with  a  screen,  she  showed  him  the 
faded  contents  of  this  and  that  drawer  or  cabinet,  or 
the  wardrobe  of  some  member  of  the  family  who  had 
died  young,  early  in  the  century,  when  muslin  reigned 
supreme,  when  waists  were  close  toarm-pits,and  muffs 
as  large  as  smuggler's  tubs. 

The  researches  among  habilimental  hulls  and  husks, 
whose  human  kernels  had  long  ago  perished,  had 
gone  on  about  half  an  hour,  when  the  companions 
were  startled  by  a  loud  ringing  at  the  front  door  bell. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

TADY  CONSTANTINE  flung  down  the  old-fashion- 
ed lace-work,  whose  beauties  she  had  been  point- 
ing out  to  Swithin,  and  exclaimed  :  "Who  can  it  be? 
Not  Louis,  surely  ?" 

They  listened.  An  arrival  was  such  a  phenomenon 
at  this  unfrequented  mansion,  and  particularly  a  late 
arrival,  that  no  servant  was  on  the  alert  to  respond  to 
the  call  ;  and  the  visitor  rang  again,  more  loudly  than 
before.  Sounds  of  the  tardy  opening  and  shutting  of 
a  passage  door  from  the  kitchen  quarter  then  reached 
their  ears,  and  Viviette  went  into  the  corridor  to  heark- 
en more  attentively.  In  a  few  minutes  she  returned 
to  the  dressing-room  in  which  she  had  left  Swithin. 

"Yes;  it  is  my  brother,"  she  said,  with  difficult 
composure.      "I  just  caught   his  voice.      He    has    no 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  143 

doubt  come  back  from  Paris  to  stay.  This  is  a  rather 
vexatious,  indolent  way  he  has,  never  to  write  to 
prepare  me." 

"I  can  easily  go  away,"  said  Swithin. 

By  this  time,  however,  her  brother  had  been  shown 
into  the  house,  and  the  footsteps  in  the  passage  were 
audible,  coming  in  search  of  Lady  Constantine. 

•'  If  you  will  wait  there  a  moment,"  she  said,  direct- 
ing St.  Cleeve  into  her  bedroom,  which  adjoined.  "  You 
will  be  quite  safe  from  interruption,  and  I  will  quickly 
come  back."     Taking  the  light,  she  left  him. 

Swithin  waited  in  darkness.  Not  more  than  ten 
minutes  had  passed  when  a  whisper  in  her  voice  came 
through  the  keyhole.     He  opened  the  door. 

"  Yes  ;  he  is  come  to  stay  !  "  she  said.  '*  He  is  at 
supper  now." 

"  Very  well  ;  don't  be  flurried,  dearest.  Shall  I  stay, 
too  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Swithin,  I  fear  not  !  "  she  replied,  anxiously. 
"  You  see  how  it  is.  To-night  we  have  broken  the 
arrangement  that  you  should  never  come  here  ;  and 
this  is  the  result.  Will  it  offend  you  if — I  ask  you  to 
leave  ?" 

**  Not  in  the  least.  Upon  the  whole,  I  prefer  the 
comfort  of  my  little  cabin  and  homestead  to  the 
gauntness  and  alarms  of  this  place." 

"  There,  now,  I  fear  you  are  offended  !  "  she  said,  a 
tear  collecting  in  her  eye.  "Would  that  I  were  going 
back  with  you  to  the  cabin  !  How  happy  we  were, 
those  three  days  of  our  stay  there  !  But  it  is  better, 
perhaps,  just  now,  that  you  should  leave  me.  Yes, 
these  rooms  are  oppressive.  They  require  a  large 
household  to  make  them  cheerful.  .  .  Yet,  Swithin," 
she  added,  after  reflection,  "  I  will  not  request  you  to 
go.  Do  as  you  think  l)cst.  I  will  light  a  night-light, 
and  leave  you  here  to  consider.  For  myself,  I  must 
go  down-stairs  to  my  brother  at  once,  or  he'll  wonder 
what  I  am  doing." 

She  kindled  the  little  light,  and  again  retreated, 
closing  the  door  upon  him.  Swithin  stood  and  waited 
some  time,  till  he  had  considered  that  upon  the  whole 


144  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

it  would  be  preferable  to  leave.     With   this  intention 
he  emerged,  and  went  softly  along  the  dark  passage 
towards    the    extreme    end,  where  there  was   a  little 
crooked  staircase  that  would  conduct  him  down  to  a 
disused  side  door.     Descending  this,  he  duly  arrived 
at   the   other   side  of   the   house,  facing  the  quarter 
whence  the  wind  blew,  and  here  he  was  surprised  to 
catch  the  noise  of  rain  beating  against  the  windows. 
It  was  a  state  of  weather  which  fully  accounted  for 
the  visitor's  impatient  ringing.      St.  Cleeve  was  in  a 
minor  kind  of  dilemma.     The  rain  reminded  him  that 
his  hat  and   great-coat  had  been  left  down-stairs,  in 
the  front   part   of  the  house;  and   though    he    might 
have  gone  home  without  either  in   ordinary  weather, 
it  was  not  a  pleasant  feat  in  the  pelting  winter  rain. 
Retracing   his    steps  to  Viviette's   room,  he  took  the 
light,  and  opened  a  closet  door  that  he  had  seen  ajar 
on  his  way  down;  it  was  a  closet  in  which  hung  vari- 
ous articles  of  apparel,  upholstery  lumber  of  all  kinds 
filling  the  back  part.     Swithin  thought   he  might  find 
here  a  cloak  of  hers  to  throw  round  him,  but   finally 
took  down  from  a  peg  a  more  suitable  garment,  the 
only  one  of  the  sort  that  was  there.     It  was  an  old 
moth-eaten  great-coat,  heavily  trimmed  with  fur;  and 
in  removing  it  a  companion  cap  of  sealskin  was  dis- 
closed.    "  Whose   can    they   be?"  he   thought,  and  a 
gloomy  answer   suggested    itself.      "  Pooh,"   he   then 
said  (summoning   the    scientific  side    of   his   nature), 
"  matter  is  mattter,  and  mental  association  only  a  de- 
lusion."     Putting  on   the  garm^ents,  he  returned  the 
light  to  Lady  Constantine's  dressing-room,  and  again 
prepared  to  depart  as  before. 

Scarcely,  however,  had  he  regained  the  corridor  a 
second  time,  when  he  heard  a  light  footstep — seem- 
ingly Viviette's — again  on  the  front  landiitg.  Won- 
dering what  she  wanted  with  him  further,  he  waited, 
taking  the  precaution  to  step  into  the  closet  till  sure 
it  was  she.  The  figure  came  onward,  bent  to  the  key- 
hole of  the  bedroom  door,  and  whispered:  "Swithin, 
on  second  thoughts  I  think  you  may  stay  with  safety." 
Having  no  further  doubt  of  her  personality,  he  came 


Tiro  OA' A   TOWER.  145 

out  with  thoughtless  abruptness  from  the  closet  behind 
her,  and  looking  round  suddenly  she  beheld  his 
shadowy  outline.  At  once  she  raised  her  hands  in 
horror,  as  if  to  protect  herself  from  him;  she  uttered 
a  shriek,  and  turned  shudderingly  to  the  wall.  He 
came  still  nearer,  and  she  crouched  completely  down 
on  the  floor,  covering  her  face. 

Swithin  would  have  picked  her  up  in  a  moment,  but 
by  this  time  he  could  hear  footsteps  rushing  up-stairs, 
in  response  to  her  cry.  In  consternation,  and  entirely 
with  the  view  of  not  compromising  her,  he  effected  his 
retreat  as  fast  as  possible,  reaching  the  bend  of  the 
corridor  just  as  her  brother  Louis  appeared  with  a 
light  at  the  other  extremity. 

"  What's  the  matter,  for  Heaven's  sake,  Viviette?" 
said  Louis. 

"  My  husband!"  she  involuntarily  exclaimed. 

"What  nonsense!" 

"Oh,  yes,  it  is  nonsense;  it  was  nothing." 

"  But  what  was  the  cause  of  your  cry?" 

She  had  evidently  by  this  time  recovered  her  reason 
and  judgment.  "  Oh,  it  was  a  trick  of  the  imagina- 
tion," she  said,  with  a  faint  laugh.  "  I  live  so  much 
alone  that  I  get  superstitious — and — I  thought  for  the 
moment  I  saw  an  apparition!" 

"  Of  your  late  husband?" 

"Yes.  But  it  was  ncUliing;  it  was  the  outline  of 
the  tall  clock  and  the  chair  behind.  Would  you  mind 
going  down,  and  leaving  me  to  go  into  my  room  for 
a  moment?" 

She  entered  the  bedroom,  and  her  brother  went 
down-stairs.  Swithin  thought  it  best  to  leave  well 
alone,  and,  going  noiselessly  out  of  th.e  house,  plodded 
through  the  rain  homeward.  It  was  plain  that  agita- 
tions of  one  sort  and  another  had  so  weakened 
Viviette's  nerves  as  to  lay  her  open  to  every  impres- 
sion. That  the  clothes  he  had  borrowed  were  some 
cast-off  garments  of  the  late  Sir  Blount  had  occurred 
to  St.  Cleeve  in  taking  them  ;  but  in  the  moment  of 
returning  to  her  side  he  had  forgotten  this,  and  the 
shape  they  lent  his  figure  had   obviously  been  a  re- 

lO 


146  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

minder  of  too  sudden  a  sort  for  her.  Musing  thus,  he 
walked  along  as  if  he  were  still,  as  before,  the  lonely 
student,  dissociated  from  all  mankind,  and  with  no 
shadow  of  right  or  interest  in  Welland  House  or  its 
mistress. 

The  great-coat  and  cap  were  unpleasant  companions; 
but  Swithin  having  been  reared,  or  having  reared  him- 
self, in  the  scientific  school  of  thought,  he,  as  has  been 
said,  would  not  give  way  to  his  sense  of  their  weird- 
ness.  To  do  so  would  have  been  like  treason  to  his 
own  beliefs  and  aims.  When  nearly  home,  at  a  point 
where  his  track  converged  on  another  path,  there  ap- 
proached him  from  the  latter  a  group  of  indistinct 
forms,  whose  tones  of  speech  revealed  them  to  be 
Hezzy  Biles,  Nat  Chapman,  Fry,  and  other  laborers. 
Swithin  was  about  to  say  a  word  to  them,  till,  recollect- 
ing on  his  disguise,  he  deemed  it  advisable  to  hold  his 
tongue,  lest  his  attire  should  tell  a  too  dangerous 
tale  as  to  where  he  had  come  from.  By  degrees  they 
drew  closer,  their  walk  being  in  the  same  direction. 

"Good-night,  stranger,"  said  Nat. 

No  reply. 

All  of  them  paced  on  abreast  of  him,  and  he  could 
perceive  in  the  gloom  that  their  faces  were  turned  in- 
quiringly upon  his  form.  Then  a  whisper  passed 
from  one  to  another  of  them  ;  then  Chapman,  who 
was  the  boldest,  dropped  immediately  behind  his 
heels,  and  followed  there  for  some  distance,  taking 
close  observations  of  his  outline,  after  which  the  men 
grouped  again  and  whispered.  Thinking  it  best  to  let 
them  pass  on,  Swithin  slackened  his  pace,  and  they 
went  ahead  of  him,  apparently  without  much  reluct- 
ance. There  was  no  doubt  that  they  had  been  im- 
pressed by  the  clothes  he  wore  ;  and  having  no  wish 
to  provoke  similar  comments  from  his  grandmother 
and  Hannah,  Swithin  took  the  precaution,  on  arriving 
at  Welland  Bottom,  to  enter  the  homestead  by  the 
outhouse.  Here  he  deposited  the  cap  and  coat  in 
secure  hiding,  afterwards  going  round  to  the  front, 
and  opening  the  door  in  the  usual  way.  In  the  entry 
he  met  Hannah,  who  said:  "D'ye  know  what  have 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  1 47 

been  seed  to-night,  Mr.  Svvithin  ?    The  work-folk  have 
dropped  in  to  tell  us." 

In  the  room  were  the  men  who  had  outstripped  him 
on  the  road.  Their  countenances,  instead  of  wearing 
the  usual  knotty  irregularities,  had  a  smoothed-out 
expression  of  blank  concern  ;  and  Swithin's  entrance 
having  been  unobtrusive  and  quiet,  as  if  he  had 
merely  come  down  from  his  study  up-stairs,  they  only 
noticed  him  by  enlarging  their  gaze,  so  as  to  include 
him  in  the  audience. 

"  We  was  in  a  deep  talk  at  the  moment,"  continued 
Blore,  "and  Nat  had  just  brought  up  that  story  about 
old  Jeremiah  Paddock's  crossing  the  park  one  night 
at  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  seeing  Sir  Blounf 
a-shutting  my  lady  out-o'-doors  ;  and  we  was  saying 
that  it  seemed  a  true  return  that  he  should  perish 
in  a  foreign  land,  when  we  happened  to  look  up,  and 
there  was  Sir  Blount  a-walking  along." 

"Did  it  overtake  you,  or  did  you  overtake  it  ?"  in- 
quired Hannah. 

"I  don't  say  't  was  z7,"  returned  Sammy.  "God 
forbid  that  I  should  drag  in  a  resurrection  word  about 
what  perhaps  was  still  solid  manhood,  and  has  to  die. 
But  he,  or  it,  closed  in  upon  us,  as  't  were." 

"Yes,  closed  in  upon  us,"  said  Haymoss. 

"  And  I  said  '  Good-night,  stranger,'  "  added  Chap- 
man. 

"Yes,  'Good-night,  stranger  ' — that  wez  yer  words, 
Natty.     I  support  ye  in  it." 

"And  then  he  closed  in  upon  us  still  more." 

"We  closed  in  upon  he,  rather,"  said  Chapman. 

"Well,  well;  't  is  no  difference  in  these  solemn  mat- 
ters! And  the  form  was  Sir  Blount's.  My  nostrils 
told  me,  for — there,  'a  smelled.  Yes,  I  could  smell  'n, 
being  to  leeward." 

"  Lord,  Lord,  what  an  unwholesome  scandal  about 
the  ghost  of  a  respectable  gentleman  !"  said  Mrs. 
Martin. 

"  Now,  wait.  I  don't  say  it  were  a  low  smell,  mina 
ye.  'T  were  a  high  smell,  a  sort  of  gamey  flavior, 
calling  to  mind  venison   and   hare,  just  as  you'd   ex. 


148  TWO  ON  A    TO  WEB. 

pect  of  a  great  'squire — not  like  a  poor  man's  'natomy, 
at  all;  and  that  was  what  strengthened  my  faith  that 
't  was  Sir  Blount." 

("  It  was  the  skins  that  old  coat  was  made  of.  I 
smelled  them,  too,"  said  Swithin  to  himself.) 

"  Well,  well;  I've  not  defied  the  figure  of  starvation 
these  five-and-twenty  year,  on  nine  shillings  a  week, 
to  be  afeared  of  a  walking  vapor,  sweet  or  savory," 
said  Hezzy.     "  So  here's  home-along." 

"Bide  a  bit  longer,  and  Fm  going,  too,"  continued 
Fry.  "  Well,  when  I  found  't  was  Sir  Blount  my  spet 
dried  up  within  me;  for  neither  hedge  nor  bush  were 
there  for  refuge  against  any  foul  spring  'a  might  have 
made  at  us." 

" 'T  was  very  curious;  but  we  had  likewise  men- 
tioned his  name  just  afore,  in  talking  of  the  confirma- 
tion that's  shortly  coming  on." 

"  Is  there  soon  to  be  a  confirmation?" 

"  Yes.  In  this  parish — the  first  time  in  Welland 
church  for  twenty  years.  As  I  say,  I  had  mentioned 
that  he  was  confirmed  the  same  year  that  I  went  up 
to  have  it  done,  as  I  have  very  good  reason  to  mind, 
When  we  went  to  be  examined,  the  parson  said  to  me, 
'  Rehearse  the  articles  of  thy  belief.'  Mr.  Blount  (as 
he  was  then)  was  next  me,  and  he  whispered:  'Women 
and  wine.'  'Women  and  wine,'  says  I,  as  innocent  as 
a  lamb;  and  for  that  I  was  sent  back  till  next  con- 
firmation. Sir  Blount  never  owning  that  he  w^as  the 
rascal." 

"  Confirmation  was  different  at  that  time,"  said 
Biles.  "  The  bishops  did  n't  lay  it  on  so  strong  then 
as  they  do  new.  Nowadays  yer  bishop  gives  both 
hands  to  every  Jack-rag  and  Tom-straw  that  drops 
the  knee  afore  him;  but  't  was  six  chaps  to  one  bless- 
ing when  we  was  boys.  The  bishop  a'  that  time 
would  stretch  out  his  palms  and  run  his  fingers  over 
our  row  of  crowns  as  off-hand  as  a  bank  gentleman 
telling  money.  The  great  prophets  of  the  church  in 
them  days  was  n't  particular  to  a  soul  or  two  more 
or  less;  and,  for  my  part,  I  think  living  was  easier 
for  't." 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  149 

"The  new  bishop,  I  hear,  is  a  bachelor-man;  or  a 
widow  gentleman  is  it?"  asked  Mrs.  Martin. 

"  Bachelor,  I  believe,  ma'am.  Mr.  San  Cleeve, 
making  so  bold,  you've  never  faced  him  yet,  I  think?" 

Mrs.  Martin  shook  her  head.  "  No;  it  was  a  piece 
of  neglect.  I  hardly  know  how  it  happened,"  she 
said. 

"  I  am  going  to,  this  time,"  said  Swithin,  and  turned 
the  chat  to  other  matters. 


CHAPTER  XXIII, 

CWITHIN  could  not  sleep  that  night  for  thinking  of 
his  Viviette.  Nothing  told  so  significantly  of  the 
conduct  of  her  first  husband  towards  the  poor  lady  as 
the  abiding  dread  of  him  which  was  revealed  in  her 
by  any  sudden  revival  of  his  image  or  memory.  But 
for  that  consideration,  her  almost  child-like  terror 
at  Swithin's  inadvertent  disguise  would  have  been 
ludicrous. 

He  waited  anxiously  through  several  following  days 
for  an  opportunity  of  seeing  her,  but  none  was  afforded. 
Her  brother's  presence  in  the  house  sufficiently 
accounted  for  this.  At  length  he  ventured  to  write  a 
note,  requesting  her  to  signal  to  him  in  a  way  she 
had  done  once  or  twice  before — by  pulling  down  a 
blind  in  £  particular  window  of  the  house,  one  of  the 
few  visible  from  the  top  of  the  Rings-Hill  column  ; 
this  to  be  done  on  any  evening  before  dark,  when  she 
could  see  him  after  dinner  on  the  terrace.  When  he 
had  leveled  the  glass  at  the  window  for  five  successive 
nights  he  beheld  the  blind  in  the  position  suggested. 
Three  hours  later,  quite  in  the  dusk,  he  repaired  to  the 
place  of  appointment. 

"  My  brother  is  away  this  evening,"  she  explained, 
"and  that's  why  I  can  come  out.  He  is  not  gone  for 
more  than  a  few  hours,  nor  is  he  likely  to  do  so  just 
yet.     He  keeps  himself  a  good   deal   in   my  company, 


I50  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

which  has  made  it  unsafe  forme  to  venture  near  you," 

"  Has  he  any  suspicion  ?  " 

"  None,  apparently.     But  he  rather  depresses  me." 

"  How,  Viviette  ?  I  fear,  from  your  manner,  that 
this  is  something  serious." 

"  I  would  rather  not  tell." 

"  But—     Well,  never  mind." 

"Yes,  Swithin,  I  will  tell  you.  There  should  be  no 
secrets  between  us.  He  urges  upon  me  the  necessity 
of  marrying,  day  after  day." 

"  For  money  and  position,  of  course." 

"Yes.     But  I  take  no  notice.     I  let  him  go  on." 

"  Really,  this  is  sad  !  "  said  the  young  man.  "  I 
must  work  harder  than  ever,  or  you  will  never  be  able 
to  own  me." 

"  Oh,  yes,  in  good  time  !"  she  cheeringly  replied. 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  have  you  always  near  me. 
I  felt  the  gloom  of  our  position  keenly  when  I  was 
obliged  to  disappear,  that  night,  without  assuring  you 
it  was  only  I  who  stood  there.  Why  were  you  so 
frightened  at  those  old  clothes  I  borrowed  ?  " 

"  Don't  ask — don't  ask  ?  "  she  said,  burying  her  face 
on  his  shoulder.  "  I  don't  want  to  speak  of  that. 
There  was  something  so  ghastly  and  so  uncanny  in 
your  putting  on  such  garments  that  I  wish  you  had 
been  more  thoughtful,  and  had  left  them  alone." 

"  I  did  not  stop  to  con  sider  whose  they  were.  By  the 
way,  they  must  be  sent  back." 

"  No  ;  I  never  wish  to  see  them  again  !  I  cannot 
help  feeling  that  your  putting  them  on  was  ominous." 

"  Nothing  is  ominous  in  serene  philosophy,"  he  said, 
kissing  her.  "  Things  are  either  causes,  or  they  are 
not  causes.     When  can  you  see  me  again  ?" 

In  such  wise  the  hour  passed  away.  The  evening 
was  typical  of  others  which  followed  it  at  irregular 
intervals  through  the  winter.  And  during  the  intenser 
months  of  the  season,  frequent  falls  of  snow  lengthen- 
ed even  more  than  other  difficulties  had  done  the 
periods  of  isolation  between  the  pair.  Swithin  ad- 
hered with  all  the  more  strictness  to  the  letter  of  his 
promise  not  to  intrude  into  the  house,  from  his  sense 


TIVO  ON  A   TOWER.  151 

of  her  powerlessness  to  compel  him  to  keep  out  should 
he  choose  to  rebel.  A  student  of  the  greatest  forces  in 
nature,  he  had,  like  others  of  his  sort,  no  personal 
force  to  speak  of,  in  a  social  point  of  view,  mainly 
because  he  took  no  interest  in  human  ranks  and 
intricacies  ;  and  hence  he  was  docile  as  a  child  in  her 
hands  wherever  matters  of  that  kind  were  concerned. 

Her  brother  wintered  at  Welland  ;  but  whether 
because  his  experience  of  tropic  climes  had  unfitted 
him  for  the  brumal  rigors  of  Britain,  or  any  other 
reason,  he  seldom  showed  himself  out-of-doors,  and 
Swithin  caught  but  passing  glimpses  of  him.  Now 
and  then,  Viviette's  impulsive  kindness  would  over- 
come her  sense  of  risk,  and  she  would  press  Swithin 
to  call  on  her,  at  all  cost.  This  he  would  by  no  means 
do.  It  was  obvious  to  his  more  logical  mind  that  the 
secrecy  to  which  they  had  bound  themselves  must  be 
kept  in  its  fullness,  or  might  as  well  be  abandoned 
altogether. 

He  was  now  sadly  exercised  on  the  subject  of  his 
uncle's  will.  There  had  as  yet  been  no  pressing  rea- 
sons for  a  full  and  candid  reply  to  the  solicitor  who 
had  communicated  with  him,  owing  to  the  fact  that 
the  annuity  was  not  to  begin  till  Swithin  was  one-and- 
twenty;  but  time  was  going  on,  and  something  defi- 
nite would  have  to  be  done  soon.  To  own  his  mar- 
riage and  consequent  disqualification  for  the  bequest 
was  easy  in  itself;  but  it  involved  telling  at  least  one 
man  what  both  Viviette  and  himself  had  great  reluc- 
tance in  telling  anybody.  Moreover,  he  wished  Vivi- 
ette to  know  nothing  of  his  loss  in  making  her  his 
wife.  All  he  could  think  of  doing  for  the  present  was 
to  write  a  postponing  letter  to  his  uncle's  lawyer,  and 
wait  events. 

The  one  comfort  of  his  dreary  winter-time  was  his 
perception  of  a  returning  ability  to  work  with  the  regu- 
larity and  much  of  the  spirit  of  earlier  days. 

One  bright  night  in  April  there  was  an  eclipse  of  the 
moon,  and  Mr.  Torkingham,  by  arrangement,  brought 
to  the  observatory  several  laboring  men  and  boys  to 
whom   he   had  promised  a  sight  of   the  phenomenon 


152  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

through  the  telescope.  The  coming  confirmation, 
fixed  for  May,  was  again  talked  of;  and  St.  Cleeve 
learned  from  the  parson  that  the  bishop  had  arranged 
to  stay  the  night  at  the  vicarage,  and  was  to  be  in- 
vited to  a  grand  luncheon  at  Welland  House,  immedi- 
ately after  the  ordinance. 

This  seemed  like  a  going  back  into  life  again  as  re- 
garded the  mistress  of  that  house;  and  St.  Cleeve  was 
a  little  surprised  that,  in  his  communications  with  Viv- 
iette,  she  had  mentioned  no  such  probability.  The 
next  day  he  walked  around  the  mansion,  wondering 
how,  in  its  present  state,  any  entertainment  could  be 
given  therein.  He  found  that  the  shutters  had  been 
opened,  giving  an  unexpected  liveliness  to  the  aspect 
of  the  windows.  Two  men  were  putting  a  chimney- 
pot on  one  of  the  chimney-stacks,  and  two  more  were 
scraping  green  mold  from  the  front  wall.  He  made 
no  inquiries  on  that  occasion.  Three  days  later  he 
strolled  thitherward  again.  Now  a  great  cleaning  of 
window-panes  was  going  on,  Hezzy  Biles  and  Sammy 
Blore  being  the  operators,  for  which  purpose  their 
services  must  have  been  borrowed  from  the  neighbor- 
ing farmer.  Hezzy  dashed  water  at  the  glass  with  a 
force  that  threatened  to  break  it  in,  the  broad  face  of 
Sammy  being  discernible  inside,  smiling  at  the  onset? 
In  addition  to  them,  Anthony  Green  and  another  were 
weeding  the  gravel  walks,  and  putting  fresh  plants 
into  the  flower  beds.  Neither  of  these  reasonable  op- 
erations was  a  great  undertaking,  singly  looked  at; 
but  the  life  Viviette  had  latterly  led,  and  the  mood  in 
which  she  had  hitherto  regarded  the  premises  render- 
ed it  somewhat  significant.  Swithin,  however,  was 
rather  curious  than  concerned  at  the  proceedings,  and 
returned  to  his  tower  with  feelings  of  interest  not  en- 
tirely confined  to  the  worlds  overhead. 

Lady  Constantine  may  or  may  not  have  seen  him 
from  the  house;  but  the  same  evening,  which  was  fine 
and  dry,  while  he  was  occupying  himself  in  the  observ- 
atory with  cleaning  the  eye-pieces  of  the  equatorial, 
skull-cap  on  head,  observing-jacket  on,  and  in  other 
ways  primed   for   sweeping,    the    customary  stealthy 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  153 

Step  on  the  winding  staircase  brought  her  form  in  due 
course  into  the  rays  of  the  bull's-eye  lantern.  The 
meeting  was  all  the  more  pleasant  to  him  from  being 
unexpected,  and  he  at  once  lit  up  a  larger  light  in 
honor  of  the  occasion. 

"It  is  but  a  hasty  visit,"  she  said,  when,  after  putting 
up  her  mouth  to  be  kissed,  she  had  seated  herself  in 
the  low  chair  used  for  observations,  panting  a  little 
with  the  labor  of  ascent.  "  But  I  hope  to  be  able  to 
come  more  freely  soon.  My  brother  is  still  living  on 
with  me.  Yes.  he  is  going  to  stay  until  the  confirma- 
tion is  over.  After  the  confirmation  he  will  certainly 
leave.  So  good  it  is  of  you,  dear,  to  please  me  by 
agreeing  to  the  ceremony.  The  bishop,  you  know,  is 
going  to  lunch  with  us.  It  is  a  wonder  he  has  agreed 
to  come,  for  he  is  a  man  averse  to  society,  and  mostly 
keeps  entirely  with  the  clergy  on  these  confirmation 
tours,  or  circuits,  or  whatever  they  call  them.  But 
Mr.  Torkingham's  house  is  so  very  small,  and  mine  is 
so  close  at  hand,  that  this  arrangement  to  relieve  him 
of  the  fuss  of  one  meal,  at  least,  naturally  suggested 
itself;  and  the  bishop  has  fallen  in  with  it  very  readily. 
How  are  you  getting  on  with  your  observations? 
Have  you  not  wanted  me  dreadfully,  to  write  down 
notes?" 

"Well,  I  have  been  obliged  to  do  without  you, 
whether  or  no.  See  here — how  much  I  have  done." 
And  he  showed  her  a  book  ruled  in  columns,  headed 
"Object,"  "Right  Ascension,"  "Declination,"  "Fea- 
tures," "  Remarks,"  and  so  on. 

She  looked  over  this  and  other  things,  but  her  mind 
speedily  winged  its  way  back  to  the  confirmation.  "It 
is  so  new  to  me,"  she  said,  "  to  have  persons  coming  to 
the  house  that  I  feel  rather  anxious.  I  hope  the 
luncheon  will  be  a  success." 

"  You  know  the  bishop?"  said  Swithin. 

"  I  have  not  seen  him  for  many  years.  I  knew  him 
when  I  was  quite  a  girl,  and  he  held  the  little  living  of 
Puddlesub-Hedge,  near  us;  but  after  that  time,  and 
ever  since  I  have  lived  here,  I  have  seen  nothing  of 
him.     There  has  been  no  confirmation  in  this  village, 


154  TWO  OIV  A    TOWER. 

they  say,  for  twenty  years.  The  other  bishop  used  to 
make  the  young  men  and  women  go  to  Warborne;  he 
wouldn't  take  the  trouble  to  come  to  such  an  out-of- 
the-way  parish  as  ours." 

"  This  cleaning  and  preparation  that  I  observe  going 
on  must  be  rather  a  tax  upon  you?" 

"  My  brother  Louis  sees  to  it,  and,  what  is  more, 
bears  the  expense." 

"  Your  brother?"  said  Swithin,  with  surprise. 

"Well,  he  insisted  on  doing  so,"  she  replied,  in  a 
hesitating,  despondent  tone.  "  He  has  been  active  in 
the  whole  matter,  and  was  the  first  to  suggest  the  in- 
vitation.    I  should  not  have  thought  of  it." 

"Well,  I  will  hold  aloof  till  it  is  all  over." 

"Thanks,  dearest,  for  your  considerateness.  I  wish 
it  was  not  still  advisable!  But  I  shall  see  you  in  the 
day,  and  watch  my  own  philosopher  all  through  the 
service  from  the  corner  of  my  pew.  ...  I  hope  you 
are  well  prepared  for  the  rite,  Swithin?"  she  added, 
turning  tenderly  to  him.  "  It  would  perhaps  be  ad- 
visable for  you  to  give  up  this  astronomy  till  the  con- 
firmation is  over,  in  order  to  devote  your  attention  ex- 
clusively to  that  more  serious  matter." 

"More  serious!  Well,  I  will  do  the  best  I  can.  I 
am  sorry  to  see  that  you  are  less  interested  in  astron- 
omy than  you  used  to  be,  Viviette." 

"No;  it  is  only  that  these  preparations  for  the 
bishop  unsettle  my  mind  from  study.  Now  put  on 
your  other  coat  and  hat,  and  come  with  me  a  little 
way." 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  iS5 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

'T'HE  morning  of  the  confirmation  was  come.  It 
was  mid-May  time,  bringing  with  it  weather  not, 
perhaps,  quite  so  blooming  as  that  assumed  to  be  nat- 
ural to  the  month  by  the  joyous  poets  of  three  hundred 
years  ago;  but  a  very  tolerable,  well- wearing  May, 
that  the  average  rustic  would  willingly  compound  for 
in  lieu  of  Mays  possibly  fairer,  but  probably  more 
foul. 

Among  the  larger  shrubs  and  fiowers  which  com- 
posed the  outworks  of  the  Welland  gardens,  the  lilac, 
the  laburnum,  and  the  guelder-rose  hung  out  their  re- 
spective colors  of  purple,  yellow,  and  white;  while 
within  these,  belted  round  from  every  disturbing  gale, 
rose  the  columbine,  the  peony,  the  larkspur,  and  the 
Solomon's  seal.  The  animate  things  that  moved  amid 
this  scene  of  color  were  plodding  bees,  gadding 
butterflies,  and  numerous  sauntering  young  feminine 
candidates  for  the  impending  confirmation,  who,  hav- 
ing gayly  bedecked  themselves  fcr  the  ceremony, 
were  enjoying  their  own  appearance  by  walking  about 
in  twos  and  threes  till  it  was  time  to  start.  Swithin 
St.  Cleeve,  whose  preparations  were  somewhat  simpler 
than  those  of  the  village  belles,  waited  till  his  grand- 
mother and  Hannah  had  set  out,  and  then,  locking  the 
door,  followed  toward  the  distant  church.  On  reach- 
ing the  church-yard  gate  he  met  Mr.  Torkingliam, 
who  shook  hands  with  him  in  the  manner  of  a  man 
with  several  irons  in  the  fire,  and  telling  Swithin 
where  to  sit,  disappeared  to  hunt  up  some  candidates 
who  had  not  yet  made  themselves  visible.  Swithin, 
casting  his  eyes  round  for  Viviette,  and  seeing 
nothing  of  her,  went  on  to  the  church  porch,  and 
looked  in.     From  the  north  side  of  the  nave  smiled  a 


15^  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

host  ot  girls,  gayly  uniform  in  dress,  age,  and  a  ten- 
dency to  "  skip  like  a  hare  over  the  meshes  of  good 
counsel."  Their  white  muslin  dresses,  their  round 
white  caps,  from  beneath  whose  borders  hair-knots 
and  curls,  of  various  shades  of  brown,  escaped  upon 
their  low  shoulders,  as  if  against  their  will,  lighted  up 
the  black  pews  and  gray  stonework  to  an  unwonted 
warmth  and  life.  On  the  south  side  were  the  young 
men  and  boys — heavy,  angular,  and  massive,  as  in- 
deed was  rather  necessary,  considering  what  they 
would  have  to  bear  at  the  hands  of  wind  and  weather 
before  they  returned  to  that  mouldy  nave  for  the  last 
time. 

Over  the  heads  of  all  these  he  could  see  into  the 
chancel,  to  the  square  pew  on  the  north  side,  which 
was  attached  to  Welland  House.  There  he  discerned 
Lady  Constantine  already  arrived,  her  brother  Louis 
sitting  by  her  side.  Swithin  entered,  and  seated  him- 
self at  the  end  of  a  bench,  and  she,  who  had  been  on 
the  watch,  at  once  showed,  by  subtle  signs,  her  con- 
sciousness of  the  presence  of  the  young  man  who  had 
reversed  the  ordained  sequence  of  the  church  services 
on  her  account.  She  appeared  in  black  attire,  though 
not  strictly  in  mourning,  a  touch  of  red  in  her  bonnet 
setting  off  the  richness  of  her  complexion  without 
making  her  gay.  Handsomest  woman  in  the  church 
she  decidedly  was;  and  yet  a  disinterested  spectator 
who  had  known  all  the  circumstances  would  probably 
have  felt  that,  the  future  considered,  Swithin's  more 
natural  mate  would  have  been  one  of  the  muslin-clad 
maidens  who  were  to  be  presented  to  the  bishop  with 
him  that  day. 

When  the  bishop  had  come,  and  gone  into  the 
chancel,  and  blown  his  nose,  the  congregation  were 
sufficiently  impressed  by  his  presence  to  leave  off 
looking  at  one  another.  Twenty  years,  people^  said, 
had  elapsed  since  a  bishop  had  sat  in  that  humble  and 
remote  house  of  prayer.  The  Right  Reverend  Cuth- 
bert  Helmsdale,  D.D.,  ninety-fourth  occupant  of  the 
episcopal  throne  of  the  diocese,  revealed  himself  to  be 
a   dark    man   in   skin   as  well  as  hair,  whose  darkness 


TIP'O  ON  A    TOIVEJ^.  157 

was  thrown  still  further  into  prominence  by  the  lawn 
protuberances  that  now  rose  upon  his  shoulder,  like 
the  Eastern  and  Western  hemispheres. 

In  stature  he  seemed  to  be  tall  and  imposing,  but 
something  of  this  aspect  may  have  been  derived  from 
his  robes.  The  service  was,  as  usual,  of  a  length 
which  severely  tried  the  tarrying  powers  of  the  young 
people  assembled;  and  it  was  not  till  the  youth  of  all 
the  other  parishes  had  gone  up  that  the  turn  came  for 
the  Welland  bevy.  Swithin  and  some  older  ones  were 
nearly  the  last.  When,  at  the  heels  of  Mr.  Torking- 
ham,  he  passed  Lady  Constantine's  pew,  he  lifted  his 
eyes  from  the  red  lining  of  that  gentleman's  hood  suf- 
ficiently high  to  catch  hers.  She  was  abstracted,  tear- 
ful— regarding  him  with  all  the  rapt  mingling  of  re- 
ligion, love,  fervor,  and  hope  which  such  women  can 
feel  at  such  times,  and  which  men  know  nothing  of. 
How  fervidly  she  watched  the  bishop  place  his  hand 
on  her  beloved  youth's  head;  how  she  saw  the  great 
episcopal  ring  glistening  in  the  sun  among  Swithin's 
brown  curls;  how  she  waited  to  hear  if  Dr.  Helmsdale 
uttered  the  form,  "  this  thy  child  "  (which  he  used  for 
the  younger  ones),  or  "  this  thy  servant  "  (wiiich  he 
used  for  those  older);  and  how,  when  he  said  "this 
thy  child,'"  she  felt  a  prick  of  conscience,  like  a  person 
who  had  entrapped  an  innocent  youth  into  marriage, 
for  her  own  gratification,  till  she  remembered  that  she 
had  raised  his  position  thereby — all  this  could  only 
have  been  told  in  its  entirety  by  herself.  As  for  Swith- 
in, he  felt  ashamed  of  his  own  utter  lack  of  the  high 
enthusiam  which  beamed  so  eloquently  from  her  ej'es. 
When  he  passed  her  again,  on  the  return  journey  from 
the  bishop,  to  his  seat,  her  face  was  warm  with  a 
blush,  which  her  brother  might  have  observed  had  he 
regarded  her. 

Whether  he  had  observed  it  or  not,  as  soon  as  St. 
Cleeve  had  sat  himself  down  again,  Louis  Glanville 
turned,  and  looked  hard  at  the  young  astronomer. 
This  was  the  first  time  that  St.  Cleeve  and  Viviette's 
brother  had  been  face  to  face.  Swithin  was  not  in 
the  habit  of   noticing   people's  features;  he  scarcely 


158  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

ever  observed  any  detail  of  physiognomy  in  his  friends, 
a  generalization  from  their  whole  aspect  being  his 
idea  of  them;  and  he  now  only  noted  a  young  man  of 
perhaps  thirty,  who  lolled  a  good  deal,  and  in  whose 
small  dark  eyes  seemed  to  be  concentrated  the  activi- 
ty that  the  rest  of  his  frame  decidedly  lacked.  This 
gentleman's  eyes  were  henceforward,  to  the  end  of  the 
service,  continually  fixed  upon  Swithin;  but  as  this 
was  their  natural  direction,  from  the  position  of  his 
seat,  there  was  no  great  strangeness  in  the  circum- 
stance. 

Swithin  wanted  to  say  to  Viviette:  "Now  I  hope 
you  are  pleased;  I  have  conformed  to  your  ideas  of 
my  duty,  leaving  my  fitness  out  of  consideration  ;" 
but  as  he  could  only  see  her  bonnet,  it  was  not  possi- 
ble even  to  look  the  intelligence.  He  turned  to  his 
left  hand,  where  the  organ  stood,  Miss  Tabitha  Lark 
being  seated  behind  it.  It  being  now  sermon-time, 
the  youthful  blower  had  fallen  asleep  over  the  handle 
of  his  bellows,  and  Tabitha  pulled  out  her  handker- 
chief, apparently  with  the  intention  of  flapping  him 
awake  with  it.  With  the  handkerchief  tumbled  out  a 
whole  family  of  unexpected  articles;  a  silver  thimble; 
item.,  a  photograph;  item,  a  little  purse;  item,  ascent- 
bottle;  item,  some  loose  half-pence;  item,  nine  green 
goose-berries;  item,  a  key.  They  rolled  to  Swithin's 
feet,  and,  passively  obeying  the  first  instinct  which 
came,  he  picked  up  as  many  of  the  articles  as  he  could 
find,  and  handed  them  to  her.  Tabitha  was  so  over- 
powered with  consternation  at  such  a  wretched  event 
happening  to  her  under  the  very  eyes  of  the  bishop, 
that  she  turned  pale  as  a  sheet,  and  could  hardly  keep 
her  seat.  Fearing  she  might  faint,  Swithin  bent  over 
and  whispered:  "Shall  I  take  you  out  into  the  air?" 
She  declined  his  offer,  and  presently  the  sermon  came 
to  an  end. 

Swithen  lingered  behind  the  rest  of  the  congrega- 
tion sufficiently  long  to  see  Lady  Constantine,  accom- 
panied by  her  brother,  the  bishop,  the  bishop's  chap- 
lain, Mr.  Torkingham,  and  several  other  clergy  and 
ladies,  enter  to  the  grand  luncheon  by  the  door  which 


riVO  ON  A    TOWER.  159 

admitted  from  the  church-yard  to  the  lawn  of  Welland 
House;  the  whole  group  talking  with  a  vivacity  all 
the  more  intense,  as  it  seemed,  from  the  recent  two 
hours'  enforced  repression  of  their  social  qualities 
within  the  adjoining  building.  The  young  man  stood 
till  he  was  left  quite  alone  in  the  church-yard,  and 
then  walked  slowly  homeward  over  the  hill,  perhaps  a 
trifle  depressed  at  the  impossibility  of  being  near  Vivi- 
ette  in  this  her  otie  day  of  gayety,  and  joining  in  the 
conversation  of  those  who  surrounded  her. 

Not  that  he  felt  any  jealousy  of  her  situation  as  his 
wife,  in  comparison  with  his  own.  He  had  so  clearly 
understood  from  the  beginning  that,  in  the  event 
of  marriage,  their  outward  lives  were  to  run  on  as  be- 
fore that  to  rebel  now  would  have  been  unmanly  in 
himself  and  cruel  to  her,  by  adding  to  embarrassments 
that  were  great  enough  already.  His  momentary 
doubt  was  of  his  own  strength  to  achieve  sufficiently 
high  things  to  render  himself,  in  relation  to  her,  other 
than  a  patronized  young  favorite,  whom  she  had  mar- 
ried at  immense  sacrifice.  Now,  at  twenty,  he  was 
doomed  to  isolation,  even  from  a  wife;  could  it  be 
that  at,  say,  thirty,  he  would  be  welcomed  everywhere? 

But  with  motion  through  the  sun  and  air  his  mood 
assumed  a  lighter  complexion,  and  on  reaching  home 
he  remembered  with  interest  that  Venus  was  in  favor- 
able aspect  for  observation  that  afternoon. 


i6o  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

TV/TEANWHILE,  the  interior  of  Welland  House  was 
in  a  rattle  with  the  progress  of  the  ecclesiastical 
.luncheon.  The  bishop,  who  sat  on  Lady  Constan- 
tine's  right  hand,  seemed  enchanted  with  her  company, 
and  from  the  beginning  she  engrossed  his  attention 
almost  entirely.  The  truth  was  that  the  circumstance 
of  her  not  having  her  whole  soul  centered  on  the  suc- 
cess of  the  repast  and  the  pleasure  of  Bishop  Helms- 
dale imparted  to  her,  in  a  great  measure,  the  mood  to 
insure  both.  Her  brother  Louis  it  was  who  had  laid 
out  the  plan  of  entertaining  the  bishop,  to  which  she 
had  assented  indifferently.  She  was  secretly  bound 
to  another,  on  whose  career  she  had  staked  all  her 
happiness.  Having  thus  other  interests,  she  evinced 
to-day  all  the  ease  of  one  who  hazards  nothing,  and 
there  was  no  sign  of  that  preoccupation  with  house- 
wifely contingencies  which  often  so  disfigures  the  not 
over-rich  hostess  that  she  is  hardly  recognizable  as  the 
same  charming  woman  who  graced  a  friend's  home 
the  day  before.  In  marrying  Swithin,  Lady  Constan- 
tine  had  played  her  card — recklessly,  impulsively, 
ruinously,  perhaps,  but  she  had  played  it;  it  could  not 
be  withdrawn;  and  she  took  this  morning's  luncheon 
as  an  episode  that  could  result  in  nothing  to  her  be- 
yond the  day's  entertainment. 

Hence,  by  that  power  of  indirectness  to  accomplish 
in  an  hour  what  strenuous  aiming  will  not  effect  in  a 
life-time,  she  fascinated  the  bishop  to  an  unprecedent- 
ed degree.  A  bachelor,  he  rejoiced  in  the  hard-headed 
period  of  life  that  fills  the  tract  of  years  between  the 
time  of  waning  impulse  and  the  time  of  incipient 
dotage,  when  a  woman  can  reach  him  neither  by 
awakening  a  young  man's   passion  nor  an  old  man's 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  l6i 

infatuation.  Lady  Constantine,  to  external  view,  was 
in  a  position  to  desire  many  things,  and  of  a  sort  to 
desire  them.  She  was  obviously,  by  nature,  warm 
and  impulsive  to  indiscretion.  But  instead  of  exhibit- 
ing activities  to  correspond,  recently  gratified  affection 
lent  to  her  manner  just  now  a  sweet  serenity,  a  truly 
Christian  contentment,  which  it  puzzled  the  good 
bishop  exceedingly  to  find  in  a  warm  young  widow, 
and  increased  his  interest  in  her  every  moment.  Thus 
matters  stood,  when  the  conversation  veered  round  to 
the  morning's  confirmation. 

"  That  was  a  singularly  engaging  young  man  who 
came  up  among  Mr.  Torkingham's  candidates,"  said 
the  bishop  to  her,  somewhat  abruptly. 

But  abruptness  does  not  catch  a  woman  without 
her  wit.     "  Which  one  ?  "  she  said,  innocently. 

"That  youth  with  the  'corn-colored  '  hair,  as  a  poet 
of  the  new  school  would  call  it,  who  sat  just  at  the 
side  of  the  organ.      Do  you  know  who  he  is  ? " 

In  answering,  Viviette  showed  a  little  nervousness, 
for  the  first  time  that  day.  "Oh,  yes.  He  is  the  son 
of  an  unfortunate  gentleman  who  was  formerly  curate 
here— a  Mr.  St.  Cleeve." 

"  I  never  saw  a  handsomer  young  man  in  my  life." 
(Lady  Constantine  blushed)  "There  was  a  lack  of 
self-consciousness,  too,  in  his  manner  of  presenting 
himself,  which  very  much  won  me.  A  Mr.  St.  Cleeve, 
do  you  say  ?  His  father  must  have  been  St.  Cleeve  of 
All  Angels,  whom  I  knew.  How  comes  he  to  be  stay- 
ing on  here  ?     What  is  he  doing?" 

Mr.  Torkingham,  who  kept  one  ear  on  the  bishop 
all  the  lunch-time,  finding  that  Lady  Constantine  was 
not  ready  with  an  answer,  hastened  to  reply  :  "  His 
father  was  an  All  Angels  man,  my  lord.  The  youth 
is  rather  to  be  pitied." 

"  He  was  a  man  of  talent,"  affirmed  the  bishop. 
"  But  I  quite  lost  sight  of  him." 

"  He  was  curate  to  the  late  vicar,"  resumed  the  par- 
son, "and  was  much  liked  by  the  parish  :  but,  being 
erratic  in  his  tastes  and  tendencies,  he  rashly  con- 
tracted a  marriage  with  the  daughter  of  a  farmer,  and 


i62  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

then  quarreled  with  the  local  gentry  for  not  taking  up 
his  wife.  This  lad  was  an  only  child.  There  wss 
enough  money  to  educate  him,  and  he  is  sufficiently 
well  provided  for  to  be  independent  of  the  world,  Sfi 
long  as  he  is  content  to  live  here  with  great  economy 
But  of  course  this  gives  him  few  opportunities  of  bet 
tering  himself." 

"  Yes — yes,  indeed,"  replied  Bishop  Helm.sdale 
''  Better  been  left  entirely  dependent  on  himself, 
These  half  incomes  do  men  little  good,  unless  thej 
happen  to  be  either  weaklings  or  geniuses." 

Lady  Constantine  would  have  given  the  world  to 
say:  "He  is  a  genius,  and  the  hope  of  my  life  ;"  but 
it  would  have  been  decidedly  risky,  and  in  another 
moment  was  unnecessary,  for  Mr.  Torkingham  said  : 
"There  is  a  certain  genius  in  this  young  man,  I  some- 
times think." 

"Well,  he  really  looks  quite  out  of  the  common," 
said  the  bishop. 

"  Youtliful  genius  is  sometimes  disappointing,"  ob- 
served Viviette,  not  believing  it  in  the  least. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  bishop.  "  Though  it  depends.  Lady 
Constantine,  on  what  you  understand  by  disappoint- 
ing. It  may  produce  nothing  visible  to  the  world's 
eye,  and  yet  may  complete  its  development  within  in 
a  very  perfect  degree.  Objective  achievements,  though 
the  only  ones  which  are  counted,  are  not  the  only  ones 
that  exist  and  have  value  ;  and  I  for  one  should  be 
sorry  to  assert  that,  because  a  man  of  genius  dies  as 
unknown  to  the  world  as  when  he  was  born,  he  there- 
fore was  an  instance  of  fruit  that  fell  among  thorns, 
or  on  stony  ground." 

Objective  achievements  were,  however,  those  that 
Lady  Constantine  had  a  weakness  for  in  the  present 
case,  and  she  asked  her  more  experienced  guest  if  he 
thought  early  development  of  a  special  talent  a  good 
sign  in  youth. 

The  bishop  thought  it  well  that  a  particular  bent 
should  not  show  itself  too  early,  lest  disgust  should 
result. 

''Still,"  argued  Lady  Constantine  rather  firmly  (for 


TWO  OiV  A    TOWER,  1 63 

she  felt  this  opinion  to  be  one  throwing  doubt  on 
Swithin),  "  sustained  fruition  is  compatible  with  early 
bias.  Tycho  Brahe  showed  quite  a  passion  for  the 
solar  system  when  he  was  but  a  youth,  and  so  did 
Kepler  ;  and  James  Ferguson  had  a  surprising  knowl- 
edge of  the  stars  by  the  time  he  was  eleven  or  twelve." 

"Yes,  sustained  fruition,"  conceded  the  bishop 
(rather  liking  the  words),  "  is  certainly  compatible  with 
early  bias.     Fenelon  preached  at  fourteen." 

"  He  is  not  in  the  church,"  said   Lady  Constantine. 

"  He  is  a  scientific  young  man,  my  lord,"  explained 
Mr.  Torkingham. 

"An  astronomer,"  she  added,  with  suppressed  ac- 
cents of  pride. 

"  An  astronomer!  Really,  that  makes  him  still  more 
interesting  than  being  handsome  and  the  son  of  a 
man  I  knew.  How  and  where  does  he  study  astrono- 
my : 

"  He  has  a  beautiful  observatory.  He  has  made  use 
of  an  old  column  that  was  erected  on  this  manor  to 
the  memory  of  one  of  the  Constantines.  It  has  been 
very  ingeniously  adapted  for  his  purpose,  and  he  does 
very  good  work  there.  I  believe  he  occasionally  sends^ 
up  a  paper  to  the  Royal  Society,  or  Greenwich,  or 
somewhere,  and  to  astronomical  periodicals." 

"  I  should  have  had  no  idea,  from  his  boyish  look, 
that  he  had  advanced  so  far,"  the  bishop  answered, 
"And  yet  I  saw  on  his  face  that  within  there  was  a 
book  worth  studying.  His  is  a  career  I  should  very 
much  like  to  watch." 

A  thrill  of  pleasure  passed  through  Lady  Constan- 
tine's  heart  at  this  praise  of  her  chosen  one.  It  was 
an  unwitting  compliment  to  her  taste  and  discernment 
in  singling  him  out  for  her  own,  despite  the  tempo- 
rary inexpediency  of  so  doing. 

Her  brother  Louis  now  spoke.  "  I  fancy  he  is  as 
interested  in  one  of  his  fellow-creatures  as  in  the 
science  of  astronomy,"  observed  that  cynic,  dryly. 

"In  whom?"  said  Lady  Constantine,  quickly. 

"  In  the  fair  maiden  who  sat  at  the  organ — a  pretty 
girl,  rather.     I  noticed  a  sort  of   by-play  going  on  be- 


164  7  wo  ON  A    TOWER. 

tween  them  occasionally,   during   the  sermon,  which 
meant  mating,  if  I  am  not  mistaken." 

"She!"  said  Lady  Constantine.  "She  is  only  a  vil- 
lage girl,  a  dairyman's  daughter — Tabitha  Lark,  who 
used  to  come  to  read  to  me." 

"  She  may  be  a  savage,  for  all  that  I  know;  but  there 
is  something  between  those  two  young  people,  never- 
theless." 

The  bishop  looked  as  if  he  had  allowed  his  interest 
in  a  stranger  to  carry  him  too  far,  and  Mr.  Torking- 
ham  was  horrified  at  the  irreverent  and  easy  famil- 
iarity of  Louis  Glanville's  talk  in  the  presence  of  a 
consecrated  bishop.  As  for  Viviette,  her  tongue  lost 
all  its  volubility.  She  felt  quite  faint  at  heart,  and 
hardly  knew  how  to  control  herself. 

"  I  have  never  noticed  anything  of  the  sort,"  said 
Mr.  Torkingham. 

"  It  would  be  a  matter  for  regret,"  said  the  bishop, 
"  if  he  should  follow  his  father  in  forming  an  attach- 
ment that  would  be  a  hindrance  to  him  in  any  honor- 
able career;  though  perhaps  an  early  marriage,  ab- 
stractedly considered,  would  not  be  bad  for  him.  A 
youth  who  looks  as  if  he  had  come  straight  from  old 
Greece  may  be  exposed  to  many  temptations,  should 
he  go  out  into  the  world  without  a  friend  or  a  coun- 
selor to  guide  him." 

Despite  her  sudden  jealousy,  Viviette's  eyes  grew 
moist  at  the  picture  of  her  innocent  Swithin  going 
into  the  world  without  a  friend  or  counselor.  But  she 
was  sick  in  soul  and  disquieted  still  by  Louis'  dread- 
ful remarks,  who,  unbeliever  as  he  was  in  human  vir- 
tue, could  have  no  reason  whatever  for  representing 
Swithin  as  engaged  in  a  private  love  affair  if  such 
were  not  his  honest  impression.  She  was  so  absorbed 
during  the  remainder  of  the  luncheon  that  she  did 
not  even  observe  the  kindly  light  that  her  presence 
was  shedding  on  the  right  reverend  gentleman  by  her 
side.  He  reflected  it  back  in  tones  duly  mellowed  by 
his  position;  the  minor  clergy  caught  up  the  rays 
thereof,  and  so  the  gentle  influence  played  down  the 
table. 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  165 

The  company  soon  departed,  when  luncheon  was 
over;  and  the  remainder  of  the  day  passed  in  quiet- 
ness, the  bishop  being  occupied  in  his  room  at  the 
vicarage  with  writing  letters  or  a  sermon.  Having  a 
long  journey  before  him  the  next  day,  he  had  express- 
ed a  wish  to  be  housed  for  the  night  without  ceremo- 
ny, and  would  have  dined  alone  with  Mr.  Torkingham, 
but  that,  by  a  happy  thought.  Lady  Constantine  and 
her  brother  were  asked  to  join  them.  However,  when 
Louis  crossed  the  church-yard  and  entered  the  vicar- 
arge  drawing-room  at  seven  o'clock,  his  sister  was  not 
in  his  company.  She  was,  he  said,  suffering  from  a 
slight  headache,  and  much  regretted  that  she  was  on 
that  account  unable  to  come.  At  this  intelligence 
the  social  sparkle  disappeared  from  the  bishop's  eye, 
and  he  sat  down  to  the  table,  endeavoring  to  mould 
into  the  form  of  episcopal  serenity  an  expression 
which  was  really  one  of  common  human  disappoint- 
ment. 

In  his  simple  statement,  Louis  Glanville  had  by  no 
means  expressed  all  the  circumstances  which  accom- 
panied his  sister's  refusal,  at  the  last  moment,  to  dine 
at  her  neighbor's  house.  Louis  had  strongly  urged 
her  to  bear  up  against  her  slight  indisposition — if  it 
were  that,  and  not  disinclination — and  come  along 
with  him  on  just  this  one  occasion,  perhaps  a  more 
important  episode  in  her  life  than  she  was  aware  of. 
Viviette  thereupon  knew  quite  well  that  he  alluded  to 
the  favorable  impression  she  was  producing  upon  the 
bishop,  notwithstanding  that  neither  of  them  men- 
tioned the  bishop's  name.  But  she  did  not  give  way, 
though  the  argument  waxed  strong  between  them; 
and  Louis  left  her  in  no  very  amiable  mood,  saying:  "  I 
don't  believe  you  have  any  more  headache  than  I  have, 
Viviette.  It  is  some  provoking  whim  of  yours — noth- 
ing more." 

Now  in  this  there  was  a  substratum  of  truth.  When 
her  brother  had  left  her,  and  she  had  seen  him  from 
the  window  entering  the  vicarage  gate,  Viviette  seem- 
ed to  be  much  relieved,  and  sat  down  in  her  dressing, 
room  till  the   evening  grew  dark,  and  only   the  lights 


1 66  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

shining  through  the  trees  from  the  parsonage  dining- 
room  revealed  to  the  eye  where  the  dwelling  stood. 
Then  she  arose,  and  putting  on  the  cloak  she  had  used 
so  many  times  be:  ore  for  the  same  purpose,  she  locked 
her  bed-room  door  (to  be  supposed  within,  in  case  of 
any  accidental  approach  from  the  servant),  and  let 
herself  privately  out  of  the  house.  Lady  Constantine 
paused  for  a  moment  under  the  vicarage  windows,  till 
she  could  sufficiently  well  hear  the  voices  of  the  diners 
to  be  sure  they  were  actually  within,  and  then  went 
on  her  way,  which  was  towards  the  Rings-Hill  column. 
She  appeared  a  mere  spot,  hardly  distinguishable 
from  the  grass,  as  she  crossed  the  open  ground,  and 
soon  became  absorbed  in  the  black  mass  of  the  fir 
plantation. 

Meanwhile,  the  conversation  at  Mr.  Torkingham's 
dinner-table  was  not  of  a  highly  exhilarating  quality. 
The  parson,  :n  a  long  self-communing  during  the  af- 
ternoon, had  decided  that  the  Diocesan  Synod,  whose 
annual  session  at  Melchester  had  occurred  the  month 
previous,  would  afford  a  solid  unimpeachable  subject 
to  launch  upon  during  the  meal,  whenever  conversa- 
tion flagged;  and  that  it  would  be  one  likely  to  win 
the  respect  of  his  spiritual  chieftain  for  himself,  as  the 
introducer.  Accordingly,  in  the  further  belief 
that  you  could  not  have  too  much  of  a  good 
thing,  Mr.  Torkingham  acted  upon  his  idea,  and 
at  every  pause  rallied  to  the  synod  point,  with  unbro- 
ken firmness.  Everything  which  had  been  discussed 
at  that  last  session — such  as  the  introduction  of  the 
lav  element  into  the  councils  of  the  church,  the  re- 
constitution  of  the  ecclesiastical  courts,  church  pat- 
ronage, the  tithe  question — was  revived  by  Mr.  Tork- 
ingham, and  the  excellent  remarks  which  the  bishop 
had  made  in  his  addresses  on  those  subjects  were 
quoted  back  to  him.  As  for  Bishop  Helmsdale  him- 
self, his  instincts  seemed  to  be  to  allude  in  a  debonair 
spirit  to  the  incidents  of  the  past  day — to  the  flowers 
in  Lady  Constantine's  beds,  the  date  of  her  house — • 
perhaps  with  a  view  of  hearing  a  little  more  about 
their  owner  from  Louis,  who  would  very  readily  have 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  167 

followed  the  bishop's  lead,  had  the  parson  allowed 
him  room.  But  this  Mr.  Torkingham  seldom  did,  and 
about  half  past  nine  they  prepared  to  separate. 

Louis  Glanville  had  risen  from  the  table,  and  was 
standing  by  the  window,  looking  out  upon  the  sky, 
and  privately  yawning,  the  topics  discussed  having 
been  hardly  in  his  line.  "A  fine  night,"  he  said  at 
last. 

*'  I  suppose  our  young  astronomer  is  hard  at  work 
now,"  said  the  bishop,  following  the  direction  of 
Louis's  glance  towards  the  clear  sky. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  parson,  "  he  is  very  assiduous  when- 
ever the  nights  are  good  for  observation.  I  have  oc- 
casionally joined  him  in  his  tower,  and  looked  through 
his  telescope  with  great  benefit  to  my  ideas  of  celestial 
phenomena.  I  have  not  seen  what  he  has  been  doing 
lately." 

"Suppose  we  go?"  said  Louis.-  "Would  you  be  in- 
terested in  seeing  the  observatory,  bishop?" 

"I  am  quite  willing  to  go,"  said  the  bishop,  "if  the 
distance  is  not  too  great.  I  should  not  be  at  all  averse 
to  making  the  acquaintance  of  so  exceptional  a  young 
man  as  this  Mr.  St.  Cleeve  seems  to  be;  and  I  have 
never  seen  the  inside  of  an  observatory  in  my  life." 

The  intention  was  no  sooner  formed  than  it  was 
carried  out,  Mr.  Torkingham  leading  the  way. 


H 


CHAPTER  XXVL 

ALF  an  hour  before  this  time  Swithin  St.  Cleeve 
had  been  sitting  in  his  cabin,  at  the  base  of  the 
column,  working  out  some  calculations  from  observa- 
tions taken  on  preceding  nights,  with  a  view  to  a  the- 
ory that  he  had  in  his  head  on  the  motions  of  certain 
so-called  fixed  stars.  The  evening  being  a  little  chilly, 
a  small  fire  was  burning  in  the  stove,  and  this  and  the 
shaded  lamp  before  him  lent  a  remarkably  cozy  air  to 
the  chamber.  He  was  awakened  from  his  reveries  by 
a  scratching  at  the  window-pane  like  that  of  the  point 


1 68  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

of  an  ivy-leaf,  which  he  knew  to  be  really  caused  by 
the  tip  of  his  sweetheart-wife's  forefinger.  He  rose 
and  opened  the  door  to  admit  her,  not  without  aston- 
ishment as  to  how  she  had  been  able  to  get  away  from 
her  friends. 

"  Dearest  Viv,  why,  what's  the  matter?"  he  said, 
perceiving  that  her  face,  as  the  lamplight  fell  on  it, 
was  sad,  and  even  stormy. 

"I  thought  I  would  run  across  to  see  you.  I  have 
heard  something  so — so — to  your  discredit,  and  I 
know  it  can't  be  true!  I  know  you  are  constancy 
itself;  but  your  constancy  produces  strange  effects  in 
people's  eyes!" 

"Good  heavens!     Nobody  has  found  us  out " 

"No,  no — it  is  not  that.  You  know,  Swithin,  that  I 
am  always  sincere,  and  willing  to  own  if  I  am  to 
blame  in  anything.  Now  will  you  prove  to  me  that 
you  are  the  same  by  owning  some  fault  to  me  ?" 

"Yes,  dear,  indeed;  directly  I  can  think  of  one 
worth  owning." 

"I  wonder  one  does  not  rush  upon  your  tongue  in 
a  moment!" 

"  I  confess  that  I  am  sufficiently  a  Pharisee  not  to 
experience  that  spontaniety." 

"  Swithin,  don't  speak  so,  when  you  know  so  well 
what  I  mean!  Is  it  nothing  to  you  that,  after  all  our 
vows  for  life,  you  have  thought  it  right  to — flirt  with 
a  village  girl?" 

"Oh,  Viviette!"  interrupted  Swithin,  taking  her 
hand,  which  was  hot  and  trembling.  "You  are  full  of 
noble  and  generous  feelings,  and  regard  me  with  a  de- 
voted tenderness  that  has  never  been  surpassed  by 
woman — how  can  you  be  so  greatly  at  fault?  /  flirt, 
Viviette?  By  thinking  that  you  injure  yourself  in  my 
eyes.  Why,  I  am  so  far  from  doing  so  that  I  con- 
tinually pull  myself  up  for  watching  you  too  jealous- 
ly, as  to-day,  when  I  have  been  dreading  the  effect 
upon  you  of  other  company  in  my  absence,  and  think- 
ing that  you  rather  shut  the  gates  against  me  when 
you  have  big-wigs  to  entertain." 

"Do  you,  Swithin?"  she  cried.     It  was  evident  that 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  169 

the  honest  tone  of  his  words  was  having  a  great  effect 
in  clearing  away  the  clouds.  She  added,  with  an  un- 
certain smile:  "But  how  can  I  believe  that  after  what 
was  seen  to-day?  My  brother,  not  knowing  in  the 
least  that  I  had  an  iota  of  interest  in  you,  told  me 
that  he  witnessed  the  signs  of  an  attachment  be- 
tween you  and  Tabitha  Lark  in  church,  this  morn- 
ing." 

"Ah!"  cried  Swithin,  with  a  burst  of  laughter. 
"  Now  I  know  what  you  mean,  and  what  has  caused 
this  misunderstanding!  How  good  of  you,  Viviette, 
to  come  at  once  and  have  it  out  with  me,  instead  of 
brooding  over  it  with  dark  imaginings,  and  thinking 
bitter  things  of  me,  as  many  women  would  have 
done!"  He  succinctly  told  the  whole  story  of  his 
little  adventure  with  Tabitha  that  morning;  and  the 
sky  was  clear  on  both  sides.  "When  shall  I  be  able 
to  claim  you,"  he  added,  "and  put  an  end  to  all  sucn 
painful  accidents  as  these?" 

She  partially  sighed.  Her  perception  of  what  the 
outside  world  was  made  of,  latterly  somewhat  ob- 
scured by  solitude  and  her  lover's  company,  had  been 
revived  to-day  by  her  entertainment  of  the  bishop, 
clergymen,  and,  more  particularly,  clergymen's  wives; 
and  it  did  not  diminish  her  sense  of  the  difficulties  in 
Swithin's  path  to  see  anew  how  little  was  thought  of 
the  greatest  gifts,  mental  and  spiritual,  if  they  were 
not  backed  up  by  substantial  temporalities.  How- 
ever, the  pair  made  the  best  of  their  future  that  cir- 
cumstances permitted,  and  the  interview  was  at  length 
drawing  to  a  close,  when  there  came,  without  the 
slightest  forewarning,  a  smart  rat-tat-tat  upon  the 
little  door. 

"Oh,  I  am  lost!"  said  Viviette,  seizing  his  arm. 
"Why  was  I  so  incautious?" 

"It  is  nobody  of  consequence,"  whispered  Swithin 
assuringly.  "Somebody  from  my  grandmother,  prob- 
ably, to  know  when  I  am  coming  home." 

They  were  unperceived  so  far,  for  the  only  window 
which  gave  light  to  the  hut  was  screened  by  a  curtain. 
At  that  moment  they  heard  the  sound  of  their  visitors' 


17°  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

voices,  and,  with  a  consternation  as  great  as  her  own, 
Swithin  discerned  the  tones  of  Mr.  Torkingham  and 
the  Bishop  of  Melchester. 

"Where  shall  I  get?  What  shall  I  do?"  said  the 
poor  lady,  clasping  her  hands. 

Swithin  looked  around  the  cabin,  and  a  very  little 
look  was  required  to  take  in  all  its  resources.  At  one 
end,  as  previously  explained,  were  a  table,  stove,  chair, 
cupboard,  and  so  on;  while  the  other  was  completely 
occupied  by  an  Arabian  bedstead,  hung  with  curtains 
of  pink-and-white  chintz.  On  the  inside  of  the  bed 
there  was  a  narrow  channel,  about  a  foot  wide,  be- 
tween it  and  the  wall  of  the  hut.  In  this  cramped  re- 
treat Viviette  slid  herself,  and  stood  trembling  behind 
the  curtains. 

By  this  time  the  knock  had  been  repeated  more 
loudly,  the  light  through  the  window-blind  unhappily 
revealing  the  presence  of  some  inmate.  Swithin 
threw  open  the  door,  and  Mr.  Torkingham  introduced 
his  visitors. 

The  bishop  shook  hands  with  the  young  man, told  him 
he  had  known  his  father,  and  at  Swithin's  invitation, 
weak  as  it  was,  entered  the  cabin,  the  vicar  and  Louis 
Glanville  remaining  on  the  threshold,  not  to  incon- 
veniently crowd  the  limited  space  within.  Dr.  Helms- 
dale looked  benignantly  around  the  apartment,  and 
said:  "Quite  a  settlement  in  the  backwoods — quite: 
far  enough  from  the  world  to  afford  the  votary  of 
science  the  seclusion  he  needs,  and  not  so  far  as  to 
limit  his  resources.  A  hermit  might  apparently  live 
here  in  as  much  solitude  as  in  a  primeval  forest." 

"  His  lordship  has  been  good  enough  to  express  an 
interest  in  your  studies,"  said  Mr.  Torkingham  to  St. 
Cleeve.  "And  we  have  come  to  ask  you  to  let  us  see 
the  observatory." 

"With  great  pleasure,"  stammered  Swithin. 

"  Where  is  the  observatory  ?  "  inquired  the  bishop, 
peering  round  again. 

"  The  staircase  is  just  outside  this  door,  my  lord," 
Swithin  answered.  "  I  am  at  your  service,  and  will 
show  you  up  at  once." 


TWO  ON  A   TOW  EH,  I?! 

"And  here  are  your  books,"  said  the  bishop,  turn- 
ing to,  the  table  and  the  shaded  lamp.  "You  take  an 
observation  at  the  top,  I  presume,  and  come  down 
here  to  record  your  observations." 

The  young  man  explained  his  precise  processes  as 
well  as  his  state  of  mind  would  let  him,  and  while  he 
was  doing  so  Mr.  Torkingham  and  Louis  waited  pa- 
tiently without,  looking  sometimes  into  the  night,  and 
sometimes  through  the  door  at  the  interlocutors,  and 
listening  to  their  scientific  converse.  When  all  had 
been  exhibited  here  below,  Swithin  lit  his  lantern,  and, 
inviting  his  visitors  to  follow,  led  the  way  up  the 
column,  experiencing  no  small  sense  of  relief  as  soon 
as  he  heard  the  footsteps  of  all  three  tramping  on  the 
stairs  behind  him.  He  knew  very  well  that,  once  they 
were  inside  the  spiral,  Viviette  was  out  of  danger,  her 
knowledge  of  the  locality  enabling  her  to  find  her  way 
with  perfect  safety  through  the  plantation,  and  into 
the  park,  home. 

At  the  top  he  uncovered  his  equatorial,  and,  for  the 
first  time  at  his  ease,  explained  to  them  its  beauties, 
and  revealed  by  its  help  the  glories  of  those  stars  that 
were  eligible  for  inspection.  The  bishop  spoke  as  in- 
telligently as  could  be  expected  on  a  topic  not  pe- 
culiarly his  own  ;  but,  somehow,  he  seemed  more  ab- 
stracted in  manner  now  than  when  he  arrived.  Swithin 
thought  that  perhaps  the  long  clamber  up  the  stairs, 
coming  after  a  hard  day's  work,  had  taken  his  spon- 
taneity out  of  him,  and  Mr.  Torkingham  was  afraid 
that  his  lordship  was  getting  bored.  But  this  did  not 
appear  to  be  the  case  ;  for,  though  he  said  little,  he 
stayed  on  some  time  longer,  examining  the  construc- 
tion of  the  dome  after  relinquishing  the  telescope, 
while  occasionally  Swithin  caught  the  eyes  of  the 
bishop  fixed  hard  on  him.  "Perhaps  he  sees  some 
likeness  of  my  father  in  me,"  the  young  man  thought; 
and  the  party  making  ready  to  leave  at  this  time,  he 
conducted  them  to  the  bottom  of  tlie  tower. 

Swithin  was  not  prepared  for  what  followed  their 
descent.  All  were  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  stair- 
case.    The  astronomer,    lantern   in    hand,    offered  to 


172  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

show  them  the  way  out  of  the  plantation,  to  which 
Mr.  Torkingham  replied  that  he  knew  the  way  very 
well,  and  would  not  trouble  his  young  friend.  He 
strode  forward  with  the  words,  and  Louis  followed 
him,  after  waiting  a  moment,  and  finding  that  the 
bishop  would  not  take  the  precedence.  The  latter  and 
Swithin  were  thus  left  together  for  one  moment, 
whereupon  the  bishop  turned. 

"  Mr.  St.  Cleeve,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  should 
like  to  speak  to  you  privately,  before  I  leave,  to-mor- 
row morning.  Can  you  meet  me — let  me  see — in  the 
church-yard,  at  half  past  ten  o'clock  ?" 

"Yes,  my  lord,"  murmured  Swithin.  And  before 
he  had  recovered  from  his  surprise  the  bishop  had 
joined  the  others  in  the  shades  of  the  plantation. 

Swithin  immediately  opened  the  door  of  the  hut, 
and  scanned  the  nook  behind  the  bed.  As  he  had  ex. 
pected,  his  bird  had  flown. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

A  LL  night  the  astronomer's  mind  was  on  the  stretch 
"^  with  curiosity  as  to  what  the  bishop  could  wish 
to  say  to  him.  A  dozen  conjectures  entered  his  brain, 
to  be  abandoned  in  turn  as  unlikely.  That  which  fin- 
ally seemed  the  most  plausible  was  that  the  bishop, 
having  become  interested  in  his  pursuits,  and  enter- 
taining friendly  recollections  of  his  father,  was  going 
to  ask  if  he  could  do  anything  to  help  him  on  in  the 
profession  he  had  chosen.  Should  this  be  the  case, 
thought  the  suddenly  sanguine  youth,  it  would  seem 
like  an  encouragement  to  that  spirit  of  firmness  which 
had  led  him  to  reject  his  late  uncle's  offer,  because  it 
involved  the  renunciation  of  Lady  Constantine. 

At  last  he  fell  asleep;  and  when  he  awoke  it  was  so 
late  that  the  hour  was  ready  to  solve  what  conjecture 
could  not.  After  a  hurried  breakfast  he  paced  across 
the  fields,  entering  the  church-yard  by  the  south  gate 
precisely  at  the  appointed  minute.     The  inclosurewas 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  173 

well  adapted  for  a  private  interview,  being  bounded  by 
bushes  of  laurel  and  alder  nearly  on  all  sides.  He 
looked  round;  the  bishop  was  not  there,  nor  any  liv- 
ing creature  save  himself.  Swithin  sat  down  upon  a 
tombstone  to  await  Dr.  Helmsdale's  arrival. 

While  he  sat  he  fancied  he  could  hear  voices,  not 
far  off,  and  further  attention  convinced  him  that  they 
came  from  Lady  Constantine's  lawn,  which  was  only 
divided  from  the  church-yard  by  a  high  wall  and 
shrubbery.  As  the  bishop  still  delayed  his  coming, 
though  the  time  was  nearly  eleven,  and  as  the  lady 
whose  sweet  voice  mingled  with  those  heard  from  the 
lawn  was  his  personal  property,  he  became  exceedingly 
curious  to  learn  what  was  going  on  within  that  screen- 
ed promenade.  A  way  of  doing  so  occurred  to  him. 
The  key  was  in  the  church  door  ;  he  opened  it,  enter- 
ed, and  ascended  to  the  ringer's  loft  in  the  west  tower. 
At  the  back  of  this  was  a  window  commanding  a  full 
view  of  Viviette's  garden  front. 

The  flowers  were  all  in  gayest  bloom,  and  the 
creepers  on  the  walls  of  the  house  were  bursting  into 
tufts  of  young  green.  A  broad  gravel-walk  ran  from 
end  to  end  of  the  facade,  terminating  in  a  large  con- 
servatory. In  the  walk  were  three  people,  pacing  up 
and  down.  Lady  Constantine's  was  the  central  figure, 
her  brother  being  on  one  side  of  her,  and  the  stately 
form  of  the  bishop  on  the  other.  She  carried  over  her 
shoulder  a  sunshade  lined  with  red,  which  she  twirled 
idly.  They  were  laughing  and  chatting  gaily,  and 
when  the  group  approached  the  church-yard  many  of 
their  remarks  entered  the  silence  of  the  church  tower 
through  the  ventilator  of  the  window. 

The  conversation  was  general  enough  to  Swithin. 
At  length  Louis  stepped  upon  the  grass,  and  picked 
up  something,  which  turned  out  to  be  a  bowl  that  had 
lain  there;  throwing  it  forward,  he  took  a  second,  and 
bowled  it  toward  the  first,  or  jack.  The  bishop,  who 
seemed  to  be  in  a  sprightly  mood,  followed  suit,  and 
bowled  one  in  a  curve  toward  the  jack,  turning  and 
speaking  to  Lady  Constantine  as  he  concluded  the 
feat.     As  she  had  not  left  the  gravel  walk,  he  raised 


174  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

his  voice,  so  that  the  words  reached  Swithin  distinctly. 
"  Do  you  follow  us?"  he  asked,  gayly. 

"I  am  not  skillful,"  she  said.  "I  always  bowl 
narrow." 

The  bishop  meditatively  paused.  "  This  moment 
reminds  one  of  the  scene  in  Shakespeare's  Richard  the 
Second,"  he  said.  "I  mean  the  Duke  of  York's  gar- 
den, where  the  queen  and  her  two  ladies  play,  and  the 
queen  says — 

'  What  sport  shall  we  devise  here  in  this  garden, 
To  drive  away  the  heavy  thought  of  care  ?' 

To  which  her  lady  answers:  'Madam,  we'll  play  at 
bowls.'  " 

"That's  an  unfortunate  quotation  for  you,"  said 
Lady  Constantine;  "for,  if  I  don't  forget,  the  queen 
declines,  saying:  '  'T  will  make  me  think  the  world  is 
full  of  rubs,  and  that  my  fortune  runs  against  the 
bias.'  " 

"Then  I  am  mal  a propos.  But  it  is  an  interesting 
old  game,  and  might  have  been  played  at  that  very 
date,  on  this  very  green." 

The  bishop  lazily  bowled  another,  and  while  he  was 
doing  it  Viviette's  glance  rose  by  accident  to  the 
church-tower  window,  where  she  recognized  Swithin's 
face.  Her  surprise  was  only  momentary;  and  waiting 
till  both  her  companions'  backs  were  turned,  she 
smiled  and  blew  him  a  kiss.  In  another  minute  she 
had  another  opportunity,  and  blew  him  another;  after- 
wards blowing  him  one  a  third  time. 

Her  blowings  were  put  a  stop  to  by  the  bishop  and 
Louis  throwing  down  the  bowls  and  rejoining  her  in 
the  path,  the  house-clock  at  the  moment  striking  half 
past  eleven. 

"This  is  a  fine  way  of  keeping  an  engagement,"  said 
Swithin.  "  I  have  waited  an  hour  while  you  indulge 
in  these  trifles." 

He  fumed,  turned,  and  behold,  somebody  was  at 
his  elbow:  Tabitha  Lark.  Swithin  started,  and  said: 
"  How  did  you  come  here,  Tabitha?" 

"  In  the  course  of  my  calling,  Mr.  St.  Cleeve,"  sai** 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  175 

the  smiling  girl.  **  I  come  to  practice  on  the  organ. 
When  I  entered  I  saw  you  up  here  through  the  tower 
arch,  and  I  crept  up  to  see  what  you  were  looking  at. 
The  bishop  is  a  striking  man,  is  he  not?" 

"  Ves,  rather,"  said  Swithen. 

"I  think  he  is  much  devoted  to  Lady  Constantine, 
and  I  am  glad  of  it.     Are  n't  you?" 

"  Oh,  yes — very,"  said  Swithin,  wondering  if  Tabitha 
had  seen  the  tender  little  salutes  of  Lady  Constantine 
and  himself. 

"I  don't  think  she  cares  much  for  him,"  added  Ta- 
bitha, judicially.  "  Or,  even  if  she  does,  she  could  be 
got  away  from  him  in  no  time  by  a  younger  man." 

"  Pooh,  that's  nothing,"  said  Swithin,  impatiently. 

Tabitha  then  remarked  that  her  blower  had  not 
come  to  time,  and  that  she  must  go  to  look  for  him; 
upon  which  she  descended  the  stairs,  and  left  Swithin 
again  alone. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  bishop  looked  suddenly  at 
his  watch.  Lady  Constantine  having  withdrawn  to- 
wards the  house.  Apparently  apologizing  to  Louis, 
the  bishop  came  down  the  terrace,  and  through  the 
door  into  the  church-yard.  Swithin  hastened  down- 
stairs, and  met  him  in  the  path  under  the  sunny  wall 
of  the  aisle.  Their  glances  met,  and  it  was  with  some 
consternation  that  Swithin  beheld  the  change  that  a 
few  short  minutes  had  wrought  in  that  episcopal  coun- 
tenance. On  the  lawn  with  Lady  Constantine,  the 
rays  of  an  almost  perpetual  smile  had  brightened  his 
dark  aspect  like  flowers  in  a  shady  place;  now 
the  smile  was  gone  as  completely  as  yesterday;  the 
lines  of  his  face  were  firm;  his  dark  eyes  and  whiskers 
were  overspread  with  gravity;  and  as  he  gazed  upon 
Swithin  from  the  repose  of  his  stable  figure,  it  was 
like  an  evangelical  King  of  Spades  come  to  have  it  out 
with  the  Knave  of  Hearts. 

To  return  for  a  moment  to  Louis  Glanville.  He 
had  been  somewhat  struck  with  the  abruptness  of  the 
bishop's  departure,  and  more  particularly  by  the  cir- 
cumstance that  he  had  gone  away  by  the  private  door 
into  the  c'nurch-yard,  instead  of  by  the  regular  exit 


176  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

on  the  other  side.  True,  great  men  were  known  to 
suffer  from  an  absence  of  mind,  and  Bishop  Helms- 
dale, having  a  dim  sense  that  he  had  entered  by  that 
door  yesterday,  might  have  unconsciously  turned 
thitherward  now.  Louis,  upon  the  whole,  thought 
little  of  the  matter,  and  being  now  left  quite  alone  on 
the  lawn,  he  seated  himself  in  an  arbor,  and  began 
smoking. 

The  arbor  was  situated  against  the  church-yard 
wall.  The  atmosphere  was  as  still  as  the  air  of  a  hot- 
house; fourteen  inches  of  brickwork  only  divided 
Louis  from  the  scene  of  the  bishop's  interview  with 
St.  Cleeve,  and,  as  voices  on  the  lawn  had  been  audi- 
ble to  Swithin  in  the  church-yard,  it  is  obvious  that 
voices  in  the  church-yard  could  be  heard  without  diffi- 
culty from  that  close  corner  of  the  lawn.  No  sooner 
had  Louis  lit  a  cigar  than  the  dialogue  began. 

"Ah,  you  are  here,  St.  Cleeve,"  said  the  bishop, 
hardly  replying  to  Swithin's  good  morning.  "  I  fear 
I  am  a  little  late.  Well,  my  request  to  you  to  meet 
me  may  have  seemed  somewhat  unusual,  seeing  that 
we  were  strangers  till  a  few  hours  ago." 

"  I  don't  mind  that,  if  you  wish  to  see  me,  my 
lord." 

"  I  thought  it  best  to  see  you  regarding  your  con- 
firmation yesterday;  and  my  reason  for  taking  a  more 
active  step  with  you  than  I  should  otherwise  have 
done  is  that  I  have  some  interest  in  you  through  hav- 
ing known  your  father  when  we  were  undergraduates. 
His  room  was  on  the  same  staircase  with  mine  at  All 
Angels,  and  we  were  friendly  till  time  and  affairs  sep- 
arated us  even  more  completely  than  usually  ?.appens. 
However,  about  your  presenting  yourself  for  confirma- 
tion." (The  bishop's  voice  grew  stern.)  "If  I  had 
known  yesterday  morning  what  I  knew  twelve  hours 
later,  I  wouldn't  have  confirmed  you  at  all." 

"  Indeed,  Bishop  Helmsdale  !" 

"  Yes,  I  say  it,  and  I  mean  it.  I  visited  your  observ- 
atory last  night." 

"You  did!" 

"  In  inspecting  it  I    noticed  something  which  I  may 


TIVO  OJV  A   TOWER,  I77 

tr«tj'  ai^scribe.  as  extraordinar5^  I  have  had  young 
men  present  tnerriselves  to  me  who  turned  out  to  be 
noioi-iousiy  unfit,  either  from  giddiness,  from  being 
profane  or  intemperace,  or  from  some  bad  quahty  or 
other.  But  I  never  remember  a  case  which  equaled 
the  cool  culpability  of  this.  While  infringing  the 
first  principles  of  social  decorum,  you  might  at  least 
have  respected  the  ordinance  sufhciently  to  have  stayed 
away  from  it  altogether.  Now  I  have  sent  for  you  here 
to  see  if  a  last  entreaty  and  a  direct  appeal  to  your 
sense  of  manly  uprightness  will  have  any  effect  in  in- 
ducing you  to  change  your  course  of  life." 

The  voice  of  Swithin  in  his  next  remark  showed  how 
tremendously  this  attack  of  the  bishop  had  toM  upon 
his  feelings.  Louis,  of  course,  did  not  know  the  rea- 
son why  the  words  should  have  affected  him  precisely 
as  they  did;  to  any  one  in  the  secret,  the  double  em- 
barrassment arising  from  misapprehended  ethics  and 
inability  to  set  matters  right,  because  his  word  ot  se- 
crecy to  another  was  inviolable,  would  have  ac- 
counted for  tlie  young  man's  emotions  sufficiently 
well. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  you  should  have  seen  anything 
objectionable,  my  lord,"  said  Swithin.  "  May  I  ask 
what  it  was?" 

'*  You  know  what  it  was.  Something  in  your  cham- 
ber, which  forced  me  to  the  above  conclusions.  I  dis- 
guised my  feelings  of  sorrow  at  the  time  for  obvious 
reasons,  but  I  never  in  my  whole  life  was  so  shocked." 

"  At  what,  my  lord  ?" 

'*  At  what  I  saw." 

"  Pardon  me,  Bishop  Helmsdale,  but  you  said  just  now 
that  we  are  strangers;  so  what  you  saw  in  my  cabin 
concerns  me  only." 

"  There  I  contradict  you.  Twenty-four  hours  ago 
that  remark  would  have  been  plausible  enough;  but 
by  presenting  yourself  for  confirmation  at  my  hands, 
you  have  invited  my  investigation  into  your  princi- 
ples." 

Swithin  sighed,     "I  admit  it,"  he  said. 

"  And  what  do  you  find  them?" 


178  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

"  You  say  reprehensible.  But  you  might  at  least 
let  me  hear  the  proof." 

"  I  can  do  more.     I  can  let  you  see  it." 

There  was  a  pause.  Louis  Glar.ville  was  so  highly 
interested  that  he  stood  upon  the  seat  of  the  arbor, 
and  looked  through  the  leafage  over  the  wall.  The 
bishop  had  produced  an  article  from  his  pocket. 

"  What  is  it,  my  lord?"  said  Swithin,  scrutinizing 
the  object  with  a  microscopic  look  of  curiosity,  as  if 
he  did  not  understand  its  nature  or  use. 

"Why,  don't  you  see?"  said  the  bishop,  holding  it 
out  between  his  finger  and  thumb  in  Swithin's  face. 
"A  bracelet — a  coral  bracelet.  I  found  it  on  the  cov- 
erlet in  your  chamber.  And  of  the  sex  of  the  owner 
there  can  be  no  doubt.  More  than  that,  she  was  con- 
cealed behind  the  curtains,  for  I  saw  them  move."  In 
the  decision  of  his  opinion  the  bishop  threw  the  coral 
bracelet  down  on  a  tombstone. 

"  Nobody  was  in  my  room,  my  lord,  who  had  not  a 
perfect  right  to  be  there,"  said  the  young  man, 
firmly. 

"  Well,  well,  that's  a  matter  of  assertion.  Now  don't 
get  in  a  passion,  and  say  to  me  in  your  haste  what 
you'll  repent  of  saying  afterwards." 

"I  am  not  in  a  passion,  my  lord,  I  assure  you.  I  am 
too  sad  for  passion." 

"  Very  well;  that's  a  hopeful  sign.  Now  I  would  ask 
you,  as  one  man  of  another,  do  5^ou  think  that  to  come 
to  me,  the  bishop  of  this  large  and  important  diocese,  as 
you  came  yesterday,  and  pretend  to  be  something  that 
you  are  not,  is  quite  upright  conduct,  leave  alone  re- 
ligion? Think  it  over.  We  may  never  meet  again. 
But  bear  in  mind  what  your  bishop  and  spiritual  head 
says  to  you,  and  see  if  you  cannot  mend  before  it  is 
too  late." 

Swithin  was  meek  as  Moses,  and  he  brushed  away  a 
tear.  "  My  lord,  I  am  in  a  difficult  position,"  he  said 
mournfully.  "  How  difficult,  nobody  but  myself  can 
tell.  I  cannot  explain;  there  are  insuperable  reasons 
against  it.  But  will  you  take  my  woid  of  assurance 
that  I  am  not  so  bad  as  I  seem?    Some  day  I  will 


TIVO  ON  A    TOWER.  1.79 

prove  it.     Till  then   I  only  ask  you   to  suspend  your 
judgment  on  me." 

The  bishop  shook  his  head,  and  went  towards  the 
vicarage.  Swithin  followed  him  with  his  eyes,  and 
Louis'  followed  the  direction  of  Swithin's.  Before 
the  bishop  had  reached  the  vicarage  entrance,  Lady 
Constantine  crossed  in  front  of  him.  She  had  a  basket 
on  her  arm,  and  was,  in  fact,  going  to  visit  some  of 
the  poorer  cottages.  Who  could  believe  the  bishop 
now  to  be  the  same  man  that  he  was  a  moment  before? 
The  darkness  left  his  face  as  if  he  had  come  out  of  a 
cave;  his  look  was  all  sweetness  and  shine  and  gayety, 
as  he  again  greeted  Viviette. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

'X'HE  conversation  which  arose  between  the  bishop 
and  Lady  Constantine  was  of  that  lively  and  re- 
productive kind  which  cannot  be  begun  and  ended 
during  any  reasonable  halt  of  two  people  traveling  in 
opposite  directions.  He  turned,  and  walked  with  her 
along  the  laurel-screened  lane  that  bordered  the 
church-yard,  till  their  voices  died  away  in  the  distance. 
Swithin  then  aroused  himself  from  his  thoughtful  re- 
gard of  them,  and  went  out  of  the  church-yard  by 
another  gate.  Seeing  himself  now  to  be  left  alone 
on  the  scene,  Louis  Glanville  descended  from  his  post 
of  observation  in  the  arbor,  and  came  through  the 
private  doorway  to  that  spot  among  the  graves 
whereon  the  bishop  and  St.  Cleeves  had  conversed. 
On  the  tombstone  still  lay  the  coral  bracelet  which 
Dr.  Helmsdale  had  flung  down  there  in  his  indigna- 
tion ;  for  the  agitated,  introspective  mood  into  which 
Swithin  had  been  thrown  had  banished  from  his  mind 
all  thought  of  securing  the  trinket,  and  putting  it  in 
his  pocket. 

Louis  picked  up  the  little  red  scandal-breeding 
thing,,  and  while  walking  on  with  it  in  his  hand  he 
observed   Tabitha  Lark  approaching  the   church,  in 


I  So  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

company  with  the  young  blower  whom  she  had  gone 
in  search  of,  to  assist  her  in  her  organ-practicing 
within.  Louis  immediately  put  together,  with  that 
rare  diplomatic  keenness  of  which  he  was  proud,  the 
little  scene  he  had  witnessed  between  Tabitha  and 
Swithin  during  the  confirmation,  and  the  bishop's  stern 
statement  as  to  where  he  had  found  the  bracelet.  He 
had  no  longer  any  doubt  that  it  belonged  to  her. 
"Poor  girl!"  he  said  to  himself,  and  sang  in  an 
undertone — 

"  Tra  deri,  dera, 
L'histoire  n'est  pas  nouvelle  !  " 

When  she  drew  nearer,  Louis  called  her  by  name. 
She  sent  the  boy  into  the  church,  and  came  forward, 
blushing  at  having  been  called  by  so  fine  a  gentleman. 
Louis  held  out  the  bracelet. 

"Here  is  something  I  have  found,  or  somebody  else 
has  found,"  he  said  to  her.  "I  won't  state  where. 
Put  it  away,  and  say  no  more  about  it.  I  will  not 
mention  it  either.  Now  go  into  the  church  where  you 
were  going,  and  may  God  have  mercy  on  your  soul, 
my  dear." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Tabitha,  with  some  per- 
plexity, yet  inclined  to  be  pleased,  and  only  recogniz- 
ing in  the  situation  the  fact  that  Lady  Constantine's 
humorous  brother  was  making  her  a  present. 

"You  are  much  obliged  to  me  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes  !  " 

"Well,  Miss  Lark,  I've  discovered  a  secret,  you  see." 

"What  may  that  be,  Mr    Glanville?" 

"That  you  are  in  love." 

"I  don't  admit  it,  sir.     Who  told  you  so?" 

"  Nobody.  Only  I  put  two  and  two  together.  Now 
take  my  advice.  Beware  of  lovers!  They  are  a  bad 
lot,  and  bring  young  women  to  tears." 

"Some  do,  I  dare  say!     But  some  don't." 

"And  you  think  that  in  your  particular  case  the  lat- 
ter alternative  will  hold  good?  We  generally  think 
we  shall  be  lucky  ourselves,  though  all  the  world  be- 
fore us,  in  the  same  situation,  have  been  otherwise." 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  i8i 

"Oh,  yes,  or  we  should  die  outright  of  despair." 

"Well,  I  don't  think  you  will  be  lucky  in  your  case." 

"Please,  how  do  you  know  so  much,  since  my  case 
has  not  yet  arrived?"  asked  Tabitha,  tossing  her  head 
a  little  disdainfully,  but  less  than  she  might  have  done 
if  he  had  not  obtained  a  charter  for  his  discourse  by 
giving  her  the  bracelet. 

"  Fie,  Tabitha!" 

"I  tell  you  it  has  not  arrived!"  she  said,  with  some 
anger.  "  I  have  not  got  a  lover,  and  everybody  knows 
I  haven't,  and  it's  an  insinuating  thing  for  you  to  say 
so!" 

Louis  laughed,  thinking  how  natural  it  was  that  a 
girl  should  so  emphatically  deny  circumstances  that 
would  not  bear  curious  inquiry.  "  Why,  of  course  I 
meant  myself,"  he  said,  soothingly.  "So,  then,  you 
will  not  accept  me?" 

"  I  didn't  know  you  meant  yourself,"  she  replied. 
"But  I  won't  accept  you.  And  I  think  you  ought  not 
to  jest  on  such  subjects." 

"  Well,  perhaps  not.  However,  don't  let  the  bishop 
see  your  bracelet,  and  all  will  be  well.  But  mind, 
lovers  are  deceivers." 

Tabitha  laughed,  and  they  parted,  the  girl  entering 
the  church.  She  had  been  feeling  almost  certain  that, 
having  accidentally  found  the  bracelet  somewhere,  he 
he  had  presented  it  in  a  whim  to  her  as  the  first  girl 
he  met.  Yet  now  she  began  to  have  momentary 
doubts  whether  he  had  not  been  laboring  under  a 
mistake,  and  had  imagined  her  to  be  the  owner.  The 
bracelet  was  not  valuable;  it  was  in  fact  a  mere  toy — 
the  pair  of  which  this  was  one  being  a  little  present  made 
to  Lady  Constantine  by  Swithin  on  the  day  of  their 
marriage;  and  she  had  not  worn  them  with  sufficient 
frequency  out  of  doors  for  Tabitha  to  recognize  either 
as  positively  her  ladyship's.  But  when,  out  of  sight  of 
the  blower,  the  girl  momentarily  tried  it  on,  in  a  cor- 
ner by  the  organ,  it  seemed  to  her  that  the  ornament 
was  possibly  Lady  Constantine's.  Now  that  the  pink 
beads  shone  before  her  own  eyes  on  her  own  arm,  she 
remembered  having  seen  a  bracelet  with  just  such  an 


l82  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

effect  gracing  the  wrist  of  Lady  Constantine,  upon 
one  occasion.  A  temporary  self-surrender  to  the 
sophism  that  if  Mr.  Louis  Glanville  chose  to  give 
away  anything  belonging  to  his  sister,  she,  Tabitha,  had 
a  right  to  take  it  without  question  was  soon  checked 
by  a  resolve  to  carry  the  tempting  strings  of  coral  to 
her  ladyship  that  evening,  and  inquire  the  truth  about 
them.  This  decided  on,  she  slipped  the  bracelet  into 
her  pocket,  and  played  her  voluntaries  with  a  light 
heart. 

Bishop  Helmsdale  did  not  tear  himself  away  from 
Welland  until  about  two  o'clock  that  afternoon,  which 
was  three  hours  later  than  he  had  intended  to  leave. 
It  was  with  a  feeling  of  relief  that  Swithin,  looking 
from  the  top  of  the  tower,  saw  the  carriage  drive  out 
from  the  vicarage  into  the  turnpike  road,  and  whirl 
the  right  reverend  gentleman  again  toward  Warborne. 
The  coast  being  now  clear  of  him,  Swithin  meditated 
how  to  see  Viviette,  and  explain  what  had  happened, 
and  with  this  in  view  waited  where  he  was  till  evening 
came  on. 

Meanwhile,  Lady  Constantine  and  her  brother  dined 
by  themselves  at  Welland  House.  They  had  not  met 
since  the  morning,  and  as  soon  as  they  were  left 
alone  Louis  said:  "You  have  done  very  well  so  far; 
but  you  might  have  been  a  little  warmer." 

"Done  well?"   she  asked,  with  surprise. 

"  Yes,  with  the  bishop.  The  difficult  question  is 
how  to  follow  up  our  advantage.  How  are  you  to 
keep  yourself  in  sight  of  him?" 

"Heavens,  Louis!  You  don't  seriously  mean  that 
the  Bishop  of  Melchester  has  any  feelings  for  me  other 
than  friendly?" 

"Viviette,  this  is  affectation.  You  know  he  has  as 
well  as  I  do." 

She  sighed.  "Yes,"  she  said.  "I  own  I  had 
a  suspicion  of  the  same  thing.  What  a  misfor- 
tune!" 

"A  misfortune?  Surely  the  world  is  turned  upside 
down!      You    will    drive    me    to    despair    about    our 


TWO  ON' A   TOWER.  183 

future,  if  yon  see  things  so  awry.  Exert  yourself  to  do 
something,  so  as  to  make  of  this  accident  a  stepping- 
stone  to  higher  things.  The  gentleman  will  give 
us  the  slip,  if  we  don't  pursue  the  friendship  at 
once." 

"I  cannot  have  you  talk  like  this!"  she  cried,  im- 
patiently. "I  have  no  more  thought  of  the  bishop 
than  I  have  of  the  pope.  I  would  much  rather  not 
have  had  him  here  to  lunch  at  all.  You  said  it  would 
be  necessary  to  do  it,  and  an  opportunity,  and  I 
thought  it  my  duty  to  show  some  hospitality  when  he 
was  coming  so  near,  Mr.  Torkingham's  house  being 
so  small.  But  of  course  I  understood  that  the  oppor- 
tunity would  be  one  for  you  in  getting  to  know  him, 
your  prospects  being  so  indefinite  at  present;  not  one 
for  me." 

"  If  you  don't  follow  up  this  chance  of  being  spiritual 
queen  of  Melchester,  you  will  never  have  another  of 
being  anything.  Mind  this,  Viviette:  you  are  not  so 
young  as  you  were.  You  are  getting  on  to  be  a 
middle-aged  woman,  and  your  black  hair  is  precisely 
of  the  sort  which  time  quickly  turns  gray.  You  must 
make  up  your  mind  to  grizzled  bachelors  or  widowers. 
Young  marriageable  men  won't  look  at  you;  or  if  they 
do  just  now,  in  a  year  or  two  they  '11  despise  you  as  an 
antiquated  party." 

Lady  Constantine  perceptibly  paled. 

"Young  men  what?"  she  asked.     "Say  that  again." 

"I  said  it  was  no  use  to  think  of  young  men;  they 
won't  look  at  you  soon;  or  if  they  do,  it  will  be  to 
look  away  again  very  quickly." 

"You  imply  that  if  I  were  to  marry  a  man  3-ounger 
than  myself  he  would  speedily  acquire  a  contempt  "for 
me?  How  much  younger  must  a  man  be  than  his 
wife — to  get  that  feeling  for  her?" 

She  was  resting  her  elbow  on  the  chair  as  she 
faintly  spoke  the  words,  and  covered  her  eyes  with  her 
hand. 

"  An  exceedingly  small  number  of  years,"  said  Louis, 
dryly.  "Now  the  bishop  is  at  least  fifteen  years  older 
than  you,  and  on  that  account,  no  less  than  on  others. 


1^4  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

is  an  excellent  match.  You  would  be  head  of  the 
church  in  this  diocese:  what  more  can  you  require, 
after  these  years  of  miserable  obscurity?  In  addition, 
you  would  escape  that  thorn  in  the  flesh  of  bishops" 
wives,  of  being  only  Mrs.  while  their  husbands  are 
peers." 

She  was  not  listening;  his  previous  observation  still 
detained  her  thoughts.  "Louis,"  she  said,  "in  the 
case  of  a  woman  marrying  a  man  much  younger  than 
herself,  does  he  get  to  dislike  her,  even  if  there 
has  been  a  social  advantage  to  him  in  the  union?" 

"Yes— not  a  whit  less.     Ask  any  person  of  experi- 
ence.     But   what    of   that?      Let's    talk    of   our   own 
affairs.     You  say  you  have  no  thought  of  the  bishop. 
And  yet  if  he  had  stayed  here  another  day  or  two  he 
would  have  proposed  to  you  straight  off." 
"  Seriously,  Louis,  I  could  not  accept  him." 
"Why  not?" 
"  I  don't  love  him." 

"Oh,  oh,  I  like  those  words!"  cried  Louis,  throwing 
himself  back  in  his  chair,  and  looking  at  the  ceiling  in 
satirical  enjoyment.  "A  woman  who  at  two-and- 
twenty  married  for  convenience,  at  thirty  talks  of  not 
marrying  without  love;  the  rule  of  inverse  ratio,  that 
is,  in  which  more  requires  less,  and  less  requires  more. 
As  your  only  brother,  older  than  yourself,  and 
more  experienced,  I  insist  that  you  encourage  the 
bishop." 

"  Don't  quarrel  with  me,  Louis,"  she  said,  pii-eously. 
"We  don't  know  that  he  thinks  anything  of  me — we 
only  guess." 

"  I  know  it — and  you  shall  hear  how  I  know.  I  am 
of  a  curious  and  conjectural  nature,  as  you  are  aware. 
Last  night,  when  everybody  had  gone  to  bed,  I  stepped 
out  for  a  five  minutes'  smoke  on  the  lawn,  and  walked 
down  to  where  you  get  near  the  vicarage  windows. 
While  I  was  there  in  the  dark,  one  of  them  opened, 
and  Bishop  Helmsdale  leaned  out.  The  illuminated 
oblong  of  your  window  shone  him  full  in  the  face  be- 
tween the  trees,  and  presently  your  shadow  crossed  it. 
He    waved    his    hand,  and    murmured    some    tender 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  185 

words,  though  what  they  were,  exactly,  I  could  not 
hear." 

"  What  a  vague,  imaginary  storj?- — as  if  he  could 
know  my  shadow!  Besides,  a  man  of  the  bishop's 
dignity  would  n't  have  done  such  a  thing.  When  I 
knew  him  as  a  younger  man  he  was  not  at  all 
romantic — he's  not  likely  to  have  grown  so  now." 

"That's  just  what  he  is  likely  to  have  done.  No 
lover  is  so  extreme  a  specimen  of  the  species  as  an 
old  lover.  Come,  Viviette,  no  more  of  this  fencing. 
I  have  entered  into  the  project  heart  and  soul — so 
much  that  I  have  postponed  my  departure  till  the 
matter  is  well  under  way." 

"Louis — my  dear  Louis — you  will  bring  me  into 
some  disagreeable  position!"  she  said,  clasping  her 
hands.  "  I  do  entreat  you  not  to  interfere,  or  do  any- 
thing rash  about  me.  The  step  is  impossible.  I  have 
something  to  tell  you  some  day.  I  must  live  on  and 
endure " 

"  Everything  except  this  penury,"  replied  Louis,  un- 
moved. "Come,  I  have  begun  the  campaign  by  invit- 
ing Bishop  Helmsdale,  and  I'll  take  the  responsibility 
of  carrying  it  on.  All  I  ask  of  you  is  not  to  make  a 
ninny  of  yourself.     Come,  give  me  your  promise!" 

''  No,  I  cannot — I  don't  know  how  to.  I  only  know 
one  thing — that  I  am  in  no  hurry " 

"  No  hurry  be  hanged!  Agree,  like  a  good  sister, 
to  charm  the  bishop." 

"  I  must  consider!"  she  replied,  with  perturbed 
evasiveness. 

It  being  a  fine  evening,  Louis  went  out  of  the  house 
to  enjoy  his  cigar  in  the  shrubbery.  On  reaching  his 
favorite  seat  he  found  he  had  left  his  cigar-case  be- 
hind him;  he  immediately  returned  for  it.  When  he 
approached  the  window  by  which  he  had  emerged, 
he  saw  Swithin  St.  Cleeve  standing  there  in  the  dusk, 
talking  to  Viviette  inside. 

St.  Cleeve's  back  was  toward  Louis,  but,  whether  at 
a  signal  from  her  or  by  accident,  he  immediately  turn- 
ed and    recognized   Glanville;  whereupon,  raising  his 


i86 


TfVO  ON  A    TuH'ER. 


hat  to  Lady  Constantine,  the  young  man  passed  along 
the  terrace  walk  and  by  the  church-yard  door. 

Louis  rejoined  hiS  sister.  "I  did  n't  know  you  al- 
lowed your  lawn  to  be  a  public  thoroughfare  for  the 
parish,"  he  said,  suspiciously. 

"  I  am  not  exclusive,  especially  since  I  have  been  so 
poor,"  replied  she. 

"  Then,  do  you  let  everybody  pass  this  way,  or 
only  that  illustrious  youth,  because  he  is  so  good 
looking?" 

"  I  have  no  strict  rule  in  the  case.  Mr.  St.  Cleeve  is 
an  acquaintance  of  mine,  and  he  can  certainly  come 
here  if  he  chooses."  Her  color  rose  somewhat,  and 
she  spoke  warmly. 

Louis  was  too  cautious  a  bird  to  reveal  to  her  what 
had  suddenly  dawned  upon  his  mind — that  his  sister, 
in  common  with  the  (to  his  thinking)  unhappy  Tabitha 
Lark,  had  been  foolish  enough  to  get  interested  in 
this  phenomenon  of  the  parish,  this  scientific  Adonis. 
But  he  resolved  to  cure  at  once  her  tender  feeling,  if 
it  existed,  by  letting  out  a  secret  which  would  inflame 
her  dignity  against  her  weakness. 

"A  good-looking  young  man,"  he  said,  with  his 
eyes  where  Swithin  had  vanished.  "  But  not  so  good 
as  he  looks.     In  fact,  a  regular  young  sinner." 

"What  do  you  mean  ? '  ' 

"  Oh,  only  a  little  feature  I  discovered  in  St.  Cleeve's 
history.  But  I  suppose  he  has  a  right  to  sow  his  wild 
oats  as  well  as  other  young  men." 

"Tell  me  what  you  allude  to — do,  Louis." 

"  It  is  hardly  fit  that  I  should.  However,  the  case 
is  amusing  enough.  I  was  sitting  in  the  arbor  to-day, 
and  was  an  unwilling  listener  to  the  oddest  interview 
I  ever  heard  of.  Our  friend  the  bishop  discovered, 
last  night,  that  our  astronomer  was  not  alone  in  his 
seclusion.  A  lady  shared  his  romantic  cabin ;  and 
finding  this,  the  bishop  naturally  enough  felt  that  the 
ordinance  of  confirmation  had  been  profaned.  So  his 
lordship  sent  for  Master  Swithin  this  morning,  and, 
meeting  him  in  the  church-yard,  read  him  such  an 
excommunicating  lecture  as  I  warrant  he  won't  forget 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  187 

in    his   life    time.       Ha-ha-ha  !      'Twas   very   good — 
very." 

He  watched  her  face  narrowly,  while  he  spoke  with 
such  seeming  carelessness.  Instead  of  the  agitation 
of  jealousy  that  he  had  expected  to  be  aroused  by 
this  hint  of  another  woman  in  the  case,  there  was  a 
curious  expression,  more  like  embarrassment  than 
anything  else,  which  might  have  been  fairly  attributed 
to  the  subject.  Can  it  be  that  I  am  mistaken?  he 
asked  himself. 

The  possibility  that  he  might  be  mistaken  restored 
Louis  to  good  humor,  and,  the  lights  having  been 
brought,  he  sat  with  his  sister  for  some  time,  talking 
with  purpose  of  Svvithin's  low  rank  on  one  side,  and 
the  possibly  sordid  struggles  that  were  in  store  for 
him.  St.  Cleeve  being  in  the  unhappy  position  of 
deriving  his  existence  from  two  channels  of  society,  it 
resulted  that  beseemed  to  either  belong  to  this  or  that, 
according  to  the  attitude  of  the  beholder.  Louis  threw 
the  light  entirely  on  Swithin's  agricultural  side,  bring- 
ing out  old  Mrs. Martin  and  her  connections  and  her  ways 
of  life  with  luminous  distinctness,  till  Lady  Constan- 
tine  became  greatly  depressed.  She,  in  her  hopeful- 
ness, had  almost  forgotten,  latterly,  that  the  bucolic 
element,  so  incisivel}^  represented  by  Messrs.  Hezzy 
Biles,  Haymoss  Fry,  Sammy  Blore,  and  the  rest,  en- 
tered into  his  condition  at  all  ;  to  her  he  had  been  the 
son  of  his  academic  father  alone. 

But  she  would  not  reveal  the  depression  to  which 
she  had  been  subjected  by  this  resuscitation  of  the 
homely  half  of  poor  Swithin  ;  presently  putting  an 
end  to  the  subject,  however,  by  walking  hither  and 
thither  about  the  room. 

"  What  have  you  lost  ? "  said  Louis,  observing  her 
movements. 

"  Nothing  of  consequence — a  bracelet." 

"  Coral  ?"  he  inquired,  calmly. 

"  Yes.  How  did  you  know  it  was  coral  ?  You  have 
never  seen  it,  have  you  ?  " 

He  was  about  to  make  answer  ;  but  the  amazed  en- 
lightenment which  her   announcement  had   produced 


1 88  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

in  him,  through  knowing  where  the  bishop  had  found 
such  an  article,  led  him  to  reconsider  himself.  Then, 
like  an  astute  man,  by  no  means  sure  of  the  dimen- 
sions of  the  intrigue  he  might  be  unearthing,  he  said, 
carelessly  :  "  I  found  such  a  one  in  the  church-yard  to- 
day. But  I  thought  it  appeared  to  be  of  no  great 
rarity,  and  I  gave  it  to  one  the  village  girls  who  was 
passing  by." 

"  Did  she  take  it?  Who  was  she?"  said  the  unsus- 
pecting Viviette. 

"  Really,  I  don't  remember.  I  suppose  it  is  of  no 
consequence?" 

"Oh,  no;  its  value  is  nothing,  comparatively.  It 
was  only  one  of  a  pair  such  as  young  girls  wear." 
Lady  Constantine  could  not  add  that,  in  spite  of  this, 
she  herself  valued  it  as  being  Swithin's  present,  and 
the  best  he  could  afford. 

Panic-struck  by  his  ruminations,  although  revealing 
nothing  by  his  manner,  Louis  soon  after  went  up  to 
his  room,  professedly  to  write  letters,  emitting  a  low 
whistle  when  he  was  out  of  hearing.  He  of  course  re- 
membered perfectly  well  to  whom  he  had  given  the 
corals,  and  resolved  to  seek  out  Tabitha  the  next 
morning  to  ascertain  whether  she  could  po&sibly  have 
owned  such  a  trinket  as  well  as  his  sister^-which  at 
present  he  very  greatly  doubted,  though  fervently 
hoping  that  she  might 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER,  189 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

nPHE  effect  upon  Swithin  of  the  interview  with  the 
bishop  had  been  a  very  marked  one.  He  had  felt 
that  he  had  good  ground  for  resenting  that  dignitary's 
tone  in  haughtily  assuming  that  all  must  be  sinful 
which  at  the  first  blush  appeared  to  be  so  to  his  eyes, 
and  in  narrowly  refusing  a  young  man  the  benefit  of  a 
single  doubt.  Svvithin's  assurance  that  he  would  be 
able  to  explain  all  some  day  was  taken  in  contemptu- 
ous incredulity. 

"He  may  be  as  virtuous  as  his  prototype  Timothy; 
but  he's  an  opinionated  old  fogy  all  the  same,"  said 
St.  Cleeve,  petulantly. 

Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  Swithin's  nature  was  so 
fresh  and  ingenuous,  notwithstanding  that  recent 
affairs  had  somewhat  denaturalized  him,  that  for  a 
man  in  the  bishop's  position  to  think  him  immoral 
was  almost  as  overwhelming  as  if  he  had  actually 
been  so,  and  at  moments  he  could  scarcely  bear  exist- 
ence under  so  gross  a  suspicion.  What  was  his  union 
with  Lady  Constantine  worth  to  him  when,  by  reason 
of  it,  he  was  thought  a  reprobate  by  almost  the  only 
living  man  who  had  professed  to  take  an  interest  in 
him?  Certainly,  by  contrast  with  his  air-built  image 
of  himself  as  a  worthy  astronomer,  received  by  all  the 
wo:  Id,  and  the  envied  husband  of  Viviette,  the  present 
imputatit)n  was  humiliating.  The  glorious  light  of 
this  tender  and  refined  passion  seemed  to  have  become 
debased  to  burlesque  hues  by  pure  accident,  and  his 
aesthetic  no  less  than  his  ethic  taste  was  offended  by 
such  an  anticlimax.  He  who  had  soared  amid  the 
remotest  grandeurs  of  nature  had  been  taken  to  task 
on  a  rudimentary  question  of  morals,  which  had  never 
been  a  question  with  him  at  all.     This  was  what  the 


19°  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

exigencies  of  an  awkward  attachment  had  brought 
him  to;  but  he  blamed  the  circumstances,  and  not  for 
one  moment  Lady  Constantine. 

Having  now  set  his  heart  against  a  longer  conceal- 
ment, he  was  disposed  to  think  that  an  excellent  way 
of  beginning  a  revelation  of  their  marriage  would  be 
by  writing  a  confidential  letter  to  the  bishop,  detailing 
the  whole  case.  But  it  was  impossible  to  do  this  on 
his  own  responsibility.  He  still  recognized  the  under- 
standing entered  into  with  Viviette  before  the  mar- 
riage to  be  as  binding  as  ever — namely,  that  the  initia- 
tive in  disclosing  their  union  should  come  from  her. 
Yet  he  hardly  doubted  that  she  would  take  that  initia- 
tive when  he  told  her  of  his  extraordinary  reprimand 
in  the  churchyard. 

This  was  what  he  had  come  to  do  when  Louis  saw 
him  standing  at  the  window.  But  before  he  had  said 
half  a  dozen  words  to  Viviette  she  motioned  to  him  to 
go  on,  which  he  mechanically  did,  ere  he  could  suffi- 
ciently collect  his  thoughts  on  its  advisability  or  other- 
wise. He  did  not,  however,  go  far.  While  Louis  and 
his  sister  were  discussing  him  in  the  drawing-room  he 
lingered,  musing,  in  the  church-yard,  hoping  that  she 
might  be  able  to  escape,  and  join  him  in  the  consulta- 
tion be  so  earnestly  desired. 

This  she  was  at  last  enabled  to  do.     As  soon  as  Louis 

,  had  left  the  room,  and  shut  himself  in   up-stairs,  she 

ran  out  by  the   window  in   the    direction  Swithin  had 

taken.     When  her  footsteps  began  crunching  on  the 

gravel  he  came  forward  from  the  church-yard  door. 

They  embraced  each  other  in  haste,  and  then,  in  a 
few  short,  panting  words  she  explained  to  him  that 
her  brother  had  heard  and  witnessed  the  interview  on 
that  spot  between  himself  and  the  bishop,  and  had 
told  her  the  substance  of  the  bishop's  accusation,  not 
knowing  she  was  the  woman  in  the  cabin.  "  And  what 
I  cannot  understand  is  this,"  she  added:  "how  did 
the  bishop  discover  that  the  person  behind  the  bed- 
curtain  was  a  woman,  and  not  a  man?" 

"  Why,"  exclaimed  Swithin,  "in  addition  to  seeing 
the  curtains  move  he  unluckily  found  on  the  bed  one 


7  wo  ON  A    TO  WEE.  19 1 

of  the  bracelets  I  gave  you,  which  you  accidentally  left 
there.     He  brought  it  to  me  in  the  church-yard." 

"  Oh,  Swithin,  what  do  you  say  ?  Found  the  coral 
bracelet  ?     What  did  you  do  with  it?" 

Swithin  clapped  his  hand  to  his  pocket.  "  Dear 
me!  I  recollect — I  left  it  where  it  lay,  on  Reuben 
Heath's  tombstone." 

"Oh,  my  dear — dear  Swithin  !"  she  exclaimed,  mis- 
erably. "  You  have  compromised  me  by  your  forget- 
fullness  !  I  have  claimed  the  bracelet  as  mine.  My 
brother  did  not  tell  me  that  the  bishop  brought  it 
from  the  cabin.  What  can  I  do,that  neither  the  bishop 
nor  my  brother  may  conclude  I  was  the  woman  there.''" 

"  But  if  we  announce  our  marriage — " 

"  Even  as  your  wife,  the  position  was  undignified — 
too  I  don't  know  what — for  me  ever  to  admit  that  I 
was  there.  Right  or  wrong,  I  must  declare  the  brace- 
let was  not  mine.  Such  an  escapade — why,  it  would 
make  me  ridiculous  in  the  county;  and  anything 
rather  than  that." 

"  I  was  in  hope  that  you  would  agree  to  let  our  mar- 
riage be  known,"  said  Swithin,  with  some  disap- 
pointment. "  I  thought  that  these  circumstances 
would  make  the  reason  for  doing  so  doubly  strong." 

"  Yes.  But  there  are,  alas,  reasons  against  it  still 
stronger  !     Let  me  have  my  way." 

"  Certainly,  dearest.  I  promised  that  before  you 
agreed  to  be  mine.  My  reputation — what  is  it?  Per- 
haps I  shall  be  dead  and  forgotten  before  the  next 
transit  of  Venus!" 

She  soothed  him  tender!}',  but  could  not  tell  him 
why  she  felt  the  reasons  against  any  announcement  as 
yet  to  be  stronger  than  those  in  fiivor  of  it.  How- 
could  she,  when  her  feeling  had  been  cautiously  fed 
and  developed  by  her  brother  Louis'  unvarnished  ex- 
hibition of  Swithin's  material  position  in  the  eyes  of 
the  world  ? — that  of  a  young  man,  the  scion  of  a  fami- 
ly of  farmers  recently  lier  tenants,  living  at  the  home- 
stead with  his  grandmother,  Mrs.  Martin.  That  this 
objection,  at  present  so  strong  to  her,  was  only  tempo- 
rary, she  quite  believed,  and  was  as  convinced  of  his 


192  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

coming  success  as  ever;  praying  and  hoping  for  it  on 
his  account  not  less  than  her  own.  She  hoped  all  the 
more  earnestly  from  an  occasional  twinge  of  con- 
science on  the  question  whether  his  marriage  with  her 
had  been  so  greatly  for  his  good  as  they  continually 
assumed  it  to'' be.  She  could  not  be  blind  to  the  fact 
that  she  had  agreed  to  the  step  as  much  for  her  own 
pleasure  as  from  a  disinterested  wish  to  release  his 
mind  from  a  distraction  which  was  fatal  to  his  studies; 
that  had  Swithin  never  seen  her,  it  would  probably 
have  been  far  better  for  him  and  his  prospects,  since 
she  had  brought  him  no  solid  help  as  yet,  either  in 
wealth  or  friends. 

To  soften  her  refusal,  she  said  in  declaring  it:  "One 
concession,  Swithin,  I  certainly  will  make.  I  will  see 
you  oftener.  I  will  come  to  the  cabin  and  tower  fre- 
quently; and  will  contrive,  too,  that  you  come  to  the 
house  occasionally.  During  the  last  winter  we  passed 
whole  weeks  without  meeting;  don't  let  us  allow  that 
to  happen  again." 

"  Very  well,  dearest,"  said  Swithin,  good  humoredly. 
"  I  don't  care  so  terribly  much  for  the  old  man's  opin- 
ion of  me,  after  all.  For  the  present,  then,  let  things 
be  as  they  are." 

Nevertheless,  the  youth  felt  her  refusal  more  than  he 
owned;  but  an  unequal  temperament  like  Swithin's,  so 
soon  depressed  on  his  own  account,  was  also  soon  to 
recover  on  hers,  and  it  was  with  almost  a  child's  for- 
getfulness  of  the  past  that  he  took  her  view  of  the 
case. 

When  he  was  gone  she  hastily  re-ente/ed  the  house. 
Her  brother  had  not  reappeared  from  up-stairs;  but 
she  was  informed  that  Tabitha  Lark  was  waiting  to 
see  her,  if  her  ladship  would  pardon  the  said  Tabitha 
for  coming  so  late.  Lady  Constantine  made  no  ob- 
jection, and  saw  the  young  girl  at  once. 

When  Lady  Constantine  entered  the  waiting-room, 
behold,  in  Tabitha's  outstretched  hand  lay  the  coral 
ornament  which  had  been  causing  Viviette  so  much 
anxiety. 

"  I  guessed,  on   second  thoughts,  that  it  was  yours, 


Tiro  ON  A    TOWER.  193 

my  lady,"  said  Tabitha,  with  rather  a  frightened  face, 
"  and  so  I  have  brought  it  back." 

"  But  how  did  you  come  by  it,  Tabitha?" 

'*  Mr.  Glanville  gave  it  to  me;  he  must  have  thought 
it  was  mine.  I  took  it,  fancying  at  the  moment  that 
he  handed  it  to  me  because  I  happened  to  come  by 
first  after  he  had  found  it." 

Lady  Constantine  saw  how  the  situation  might  be 
improved  so  as  to  effect  her  deliverance  from  this 
troublesome  little  web  of  evidence. 

"  Oh,  you  can  keep  it,"  she  said,  brightly.  "  It  was 
very  good  of  you  to  bring  it  back.  But  keep  it  for 
your  very  own.  Take  Mr.  Glanville  at  his  word,  and 
don't  explain.  And,  Tabitha,  divide  the  strands  into 
two  bracelets;  there  are  enough  of  them  to  make  a 
pair." 

The  next  morning,  in  pursuance  of  his  resolution, 
Louis  wandered  around  the  grounds  till  he  saw  the 
girl  for  whom  he  was  waiting  enter  the  church.  He 
accosted  her  over  the  wall.  But,  puzzling  to  view,  a 
coral  bracelet  blushed  on  each  of  her  young  arms,  for 
she  had  promptly  carried  out  the  suggestion  of  Lady 
Constantine. 

"  You  are  wearing  it,  I  see,  Tabitha,  with  the  other," 
he  murmured.     "  Then  you  mean  to  keep  it?" 

"Yes,  I  mean  to  keep  it." 

"  You  are  sure  it  is  not  Lady  Constantine's?  I  find 
she  had  one  like  it." 

"  Quite  sure.  But  you  had  better  take  it  to  her,  sir, 
and  ask  her,"  said  the  saucy  girl. 

"Oh,  no;  that's  not  necessary,"  replied  Louis,  con- 
siderably shaken  in  his  convictions. 

When  Louis  met  his  sister,  a  short  time  after,  he 
did  not  catch  her,  as  he  had  intended  to  do,  by  saying 
suddenly:  "I  have  found  your  bracelet.  I  know^  who 
has  got  it." 

"You  cannot  have  found  it,"  she  replied  quietly, 
'for  I  have  discovered  that  it  was  never  lost,"  and 
stretching  out  both  her  hands  she  revealed  one  on 
each,  Viviette  having  performed  the  same  operation 

'3 


194  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

with  her  remaining  bracelet  that  she  had  advised  Ta- 
bitha  to  do  with  the  other. 

Louis  was  mystified,  but  by  no  means  convinced. 
In  spite  of  this  attempt  to  hoodwink  him,  his  mind 
returned  to  the  subject  every  hour  of  the  day.  There 
was  no  doubt  that  either  Tabitha  or  Viviette  had  been 
with  Swithin  in  the  cabin.  He  recapitulated  every 
case  that  had  occurred  during  his  visit  to  Welland  in 
which  his  sister's  manner  had  been  of  a  color  to  justify 
the  suspicion  that  it  was  she.  There  was  that  strange 
incident  in  the  corridor,  when  she  had  screamed  at 
what  she  described  to  be  a  shadowy  resemblance  to 
her  late  husband;  how  very  improbable  that  this  fancy 
should  have  been  the  only  cause  of  her  agitation  ! 
Then  he  had  noticed,  during  Swithin's  confirmation,  a 
blush  upon  her  cheek  when  he  passed  her,  on  his  way 
to  the  bishop,  and  the  fervor  in  ])ier  glance  during  the 
few  moments  of  the  imposition.  Then  he  suddenly 
recalled  the  night  at  the  railway  station,  when  the  ac- 
cident with  the  whip  took  place,  and  how,  when  he 
had  reached  Welland  House,  an  hour  later,  he  had 
found  no  Viviette  there.  Running  thus  from  incident 
to  incident,  he  increased  his  suspicions  without  being 
able  to  cull  from  the  circumstances  anything  amount- 
ing to  evidence;  but  evidence  he  now  determined  to 
acquire  without  saying  a  word  to  any  one. 

His  plan  was  a  cruel  one;  to  set  a  trap  into  which 
the  pair  would  blindly  walk,  if  any  secret  under- 
standing existed  between  them  of  the  nature  he 
suspected. 


TyVO  ON  A   TOWER.  195 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

"LJ'  E  began  by  calling  at  the  tower  one  afternoon,  as 
if  by  accident.  After  a  friendly  chat  with  Swithin, 
whom  he  found  there  (having  watched  him  enter), 
Louis  invited  the  you<igman  to  dine  the  same  evening 
at  the  house,  that  he  might  have  an  opportunity  of 
showing  him  some  interesting  old  scientitic  works  in 
folio,  that,  according  to  Louis'  account,  he  had  stum- 
bled on  in  overhauling  the  library.  Louis  set  no  great 
bait  for  St.  Cleeve  in  this  statement,  for  old  science  is 
not  old  art,  which,  having  perfected  itself,  has  died 
and  left  its  secrets  hidden  in  its  remains.  But  Swithin 
was  a  responsive  fellow,  and  readily  agreed  to  come; 
being,  moreover,  always  glad  of  a  chance  of  meeting 
Viviette  en  famillc.  Besides,  he  hoped  to  tell  her  of  a 
scheme  which  had  lately  suggested  itself  to  him  as 
likely  to  benefit  them  both:  that  he  should  go  away 
for  awhile,  and  endeavor  to  raise  suflicient  funds  to 
visit  the  great  observatories  of  Europe,  possibly  with 
a  view  to  obtaining  a  post  in  one  of  them.  Hitherto 
the  only  bar  to  the  plan  had  been  the  exceeding  nar- 
rowness of  his  income,  which,  though  sufficient  for  his 
present  life,  was  absolutely  inadequate  for  the  require- 
ments of  a  traveling  astronomer. 

Meanwhile,  Louis  Glanville  had  returned  to  the 
house,  and  told  his  sister  in  the  most  innocent  man- 
ner that  he  had  been  in  the  company  of  St.  Cleeve 
that  afternoon,  getting  a  few  useful  wrinkles  on  astron- 
omy; that  they  had  grown  so  friendly  over  the  fasci- 
nating subject  as  to  leave  him  no  alternative  but  to 
inrite  St.  Cleeve  to  dine  at  Welland  the  same  evening, 
with  a  view  to  certain  researches  in  the  library  after- 
ward. "  I  could  quite  make  allowances  for  any 
youthful  errors  into  which  the  young  man  may  have  been 
betrayed,"  he  continued,  sentcntiously,  "  since,  for  a 


196  TWO  OiV  A    TOWER. 

scientist,  he  is  really  admirable.  No  doubt  the  bish- 
op's caution  will  not  be  loct  upon  him;  and  as  for  his 
birth  and  connections — those  he  can't  help." 

Lady  Constantine  showed  such  alacrity  in  adopting 
the  idea  of  having  Swithin  to  dinner,  and  she  ignored 
his  "  youthful  errors  "  so  completely,  as  almost  to  be- 
tray herself.  In  fulfillment  of  her  promise  to  see  him 
oftener,  she  had  been  intending  to  run  across  to 
Swithin  on  that  identical  evening.  Now  the  trouble 
would  be  saved  in  a  very  delightful  way,  by  the  exer- 
cise of  a  little  hospitality,  which  Viviette  herself  would 
not  have  dared  to  suggest. 

Dinner-time  came,  and  with  it  Swithin,  exhibiting 
rather  a  blushing  and  nervous  manner,  that  was,  un- 
fortunately, more  likely  to  betray  their  cause  than  was 
Viviette's  own  more  practiced  bearing.  Throughout 
•■he  meal  Louis  sat  in  his  chair  like  a  spider  in  the 
corner  of  his  web,  observing  them  narrowly,  and  at 
moments  flinging  out  an  artful  thread,  here  and  there, 
with  the  same  view  to  their  entanglement.  But  they 
passed  through  the  ordeal  marvelously  well.  Perhaps 
the  actual  tie  between  them,  through  being  so  much 
closer  and  of  so  much  more  practical  a  nature  than 
even  their  critic  supposed  it,  was  in  itself  a  protection 
against  their  exhibiting  that  ultra-reciprocity  of  man- 
ner which,  had  they  been  merely  lovers,  might  have 
betrayed  them. 

But  Louis'  scheme  was  as  yet  only  half  developed. 
After  dinner  the  trio  duly  adjourned  to  the  library,  as 
had  been  planned,  and  the  volumes  were  brought 
forth  by  Louis  with  the  zest  of  a  bibliophilist. 
Swithin  had  seen  most  of  them  before,  and  thought 
but  little  of  them;  but  the  pleasure  of  staying  in  the 
house  made  him  welcome  any  reason  for  doing  so,  and 
he  willingly  looked  at  whatever  was  put  before  him, 
from  Bertius'  Ptolemy  to  Rees'  Cyclopaedia.  The 
evening  thus  passed  away,  and  it  began  to  grow  late. 
Swithin,  who,  among  other  things,  had  planned  to  go 
to  Greenwich  next  day,  to  view  the  Royal  Observatory, 
would  start  up  and  prepare  to  leave  for  home,  every 
now    and     then,     when     Glanville    would     unearth 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  197 

some  other  volume,  and  so  detain  him  yet  another  half 
hour. 

"By  George!"  he  said,  looking  at  the  clock,  when 
Swithin  was  at  last  really  about  to  depart.  "  I  didn't 
know  it  was  so  late.  Why  not  stay  here  to-night,  St. 
Cleeve?  It  is  very  dark,  and  the  way  to  your  place  is 
an  awkward  cross-cut  over  the  fields." 

"  It  would  not  inconvenience  us  at  all,  Mr.  St. 
Cleeve,  if  you  would  care  to  stay,"  said  Lady  Constan- 
tine. 

"I  am  afraid — the  fact  is,  I  wanted  to  take  an 
observation  at  twenty  minutes  past  two" — began 
Swithin. 

"Oh,  now,  never  mind  your  observations,"  said 
Louis.  "That's  only  an  excuse.  Do  that  to-morrow 
night.  Now  you  will  stay.  It  is  settled.  Vivietle, 
say  he  m.ust  stay,  and  we'll  have  another  hour  of 
these  charming  intellectual  researches." 

Viviette  was  entrapped  with  delightful  ease  into  a 
furtherance  of  Louis'  scheme.  "Do  stay,  Mr.  St. 
Cleeve!"  she  said,  sweetly. 

"Well,  in  truth,  I  can  do  without  the  observation," 
replied  the  young  man,  as  he  gave  way.  "It  is  not  of 
the  greatest  consequence." 

Thus  it  was  arranged;  but  the  researches  among 
the  tomes  were  not  prolonged  to  the  extent  that  Louis 
had  suggested.  In  three  quarters  of  an  hour  from 
that  time  they  had  all  retired  to  their  respective 
rooms;  Lady  Constantine's  being  on  one  side  of  the 
west  corridor,  Swithin's  opposite,  and  Louis'  at  the 
further  end. 

Louis,  however,  was  never  more  broadly  awake  in 
his  life  than  now,  when  he  was  believed  to  be  compos- 
ing himself  for  sleep.  Had  a  person  followed  him 
when  he  withdrew,  that  watcher  would  have  discover- 
ed, on  peeping  through  the  keyhole  of  his  door,  that 
he  was  engaged  in  one  of  the  oddest  of  occupations  for 
such  a  man — that  of  sweeping  down  from  the  ceiling, 
by  means  of  a  walking-cane,  a  long  cobweb  which 
lingered  on  high  in  the  corner.  Keeping  it  stretched 
upon  the  cane,  he  gently  opened  the  door,  and  set  the 


198  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

candle  in  such  a  position  on  the  mat  that  the  light 
shone  down  the  corridor.  Thus  guided  by  its  rays,  he 
passed  out  slipperless,  till  he  reached  the  door  of  St. 
Cleeve's  room,  where  he  applied  the  dangling  spider's 
thread  in  such  a  manner  that  it  stretched  across,  like 
a  tight-rope,  from  jamb  to  jamb,  barring,  in  its  fragile 
way,  entrance  and  egress.  This  operation  completed, 
he  retired  again,  and,  extinguishing  his  light,  went 
through  his  bedroom  window  out  upon  the  flat  roof 
of  the  portico,  to  which  it  gave  access. 

Here  Louis  made  himself  comfortable  in  his  chair 
and  smoking-cap,  enjoying  the  fragrance  of  a  cigar 
for  something  like  half-an-hour.  His  position  com- 
manded a  view  of  the  two  windows  of  Lady  Constan- 
tine's  room,  and  from  these  a  dim  light  shone  contin- 
uously. Having  the  window  partly  open  at  his 
back,  and  the  door  of  his  room  also  scarcely  closed, 
his  ear  retained  a  lair  command  of  any  sounds  within 
the  corridor  that  might  be  caused  by  meeting  and 
whispering  lovers.  In  due  time  certain  sounds  from 
that  quarter  actually  became  audible;  whereupon,  re- 
turning to  his  room,  he  re-entered  the  corridor,  and 
listened  intently.  All  was  silent  again,  and  darkness 
reigned  from  end  to  end.  Glanville,  however,  groped 
his  way  along  the  passage  till  he  again  reached  Swith- 
in's  door,  where  he  examined,  by  the  light  of  a  wax- 
match  he  had  brought,  the  condition  of  the  spider's 
thread.  It  was  gone;  somebody  had  carried  it  off 
bodily,  as  Samson  carried  off  the  pin  and  the  web. 
In  other  words,  a  person  had  passed  through  the 
door. 

Still  holding  the  faint  wax-light  in  his  hand,  Louis 
turned  to  the  door  of  Lady  Constantine's  chamber, 
where  he  observed  first  that,  though  it  was  pushed 
together  so  as  to  appear  fastened  to  cursory  view,  the 
door  was  not  really  closed  by  about  a  quarter  of  an 
inch.  This  being  all  he  wished  to  see,  he  dropped  his 
light,  and  extinguished  it  with  his  foot.  Listening,  he 
heard  a  voice  within — Viviette's  voice,  in  a  subdued 
murmur,  though  speaking  earnestly.  Without  any 
hesitation,    Louis    then   returned    to    Swithin's    door, 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  199 

opened  it,  and  walked  in.  The  starlight  from  without 
was  sufficient,  now  that  his  eye  had  become  accustom- 
ed to  the  darkness,  to  reveal  that  the  room  was  un- 
occupied, and  that  nothing  therein  had  been  disturb- 
ed. 

The  worthy  gentleman's  plot  was  now  complete. 
With  a  heavy  tread  he  came  forth,  walked  loudly 
across  the  corridor,  knocked  at  Lady  Constantine's 
door,  and  called  "Viviette!" 

She  heard  him  instantly,  replying  "  Yes,"  in  start- 
led tones.  Immediately  afterwards  she  opened  the 
door,  and  confronted  him  in  her  dressing-gown,  with 
alight  in  her  hand.  "What  is  the  matter,  Louis?" 
she  said. 

"I  am  greatly  alarmed.     Our  visitor  is  missing." 

"  Missing?     What!  Mr.  St.  Cleeve  ?" 

*•  Yes.  I  was  sitting  up  to  finish  a  cigar,  when  I 
thought  I  heard  a  noise  in  this  direction.  On  coming 
to  his  room,  I  find  he  is  not  there." 

"  Good  Heaven  !  I  wonder  what  has  happened  !" 
she  exclaimed,  in  apparently  intense  alarm. 

"I  wonder,"  said  Glanville,  grimly. 

"  Suppose  he  is  a  somnambulist!  If  so,  he  may  have 
gone  out  and  broken  his  neck.  I  have  never  heard 
that  he  is  one,  but  they  say  that  sleeping  in  strange 
places  disturbs  the  mind  of  people  who  are  given  to 
that  sort  of  thing,  and  provokes  them  to  it." 

"  Unfortunately  for  your  theory,  his  bed  has  not  been 
touched." 

"  Oh,  what  then  can  it  be?" 

Her  brother  looked  her  full  in  the  face.  "  Viviette!" 
he  said,  sternly. 

She  seemed  puzzled.  "Well?"  she  replied,  in  sim- 
ple tones. 

"  I  heard  voices  in  your  room,"  he  continued. 

"  Voices  ?" 

"  A  voice — yours." 

"Yes,  you  may  have  done  so.     It  was  mine." 

*•  A  listener  is  required  for  a  speaker." 

"  True,  Louis." 


200  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

"  Well,  to  whom  were  you  speaking  ?" 

"  God." 

"  Viviette  !     I  am  ashamed  of  you." 

"I  was  saying  my  prayers." 

"  Prayers  ! — to  God  !     To  St.  Swithin,  rather  !" 

"What  do  you  mean,  Louis?"  she  asked,  flushing 
up  warm,  and  drawing  back  from  him.  "  It  was  a 
form  of  prayer  I  use,  particularly  when  I  am  in 
trouble.  It  was  recommended  to  me  by  the  bishop, 
and  Mr.  Torkingham  commends  it  very  highly." 

"  On  your  honor,  if  you  have  any,"  he  said,  bitterly, 
"  whom  have  you  there  in  your  room  ? " 

"No  human  being." 

"Flatly,  I  don't  believe  you." 

She  gave  a  dignified  little  bow,  and,  waving  her 
hand  into  the  apartment,  said:  "Very  well;  then 
search  and  see." 

Louis  entered,  and  glanced  round  the  room,  behind 
the  curtains,  under  the  bed,  out  of  the  window — a 
view  from  which  showed  that  escape  thence  would 
have  been  impossible — everywhere,  in  short,  capable 
or  incapable  of  affording  a  retreat  to  humanity  ;  but 
discovered  nobody.  All  he  observed  was  that  a  light 
stood  on  the  low  table  by  her  bedside  ;  that  on  the 
bed  lay  an  open  prayer  book,  the  counterpane  being 
unpressed,  except  into  a  little  pit  beside  the  prayer 
book,  apparently  where  her  head  had  rested  in  kneel- 
ing. 

"But  where  is  St.  Cleeve?"  he  said,  turning  in  be- 
wilderment from  these  evidences  of  innocent  devo- 
tion. 

"Where  can  he  be?"  she  chimed  in,  with  real  dis- 
tress. "  I  should  so  much  like  to  know.  Look 
about  for  him.     I  am  quite  uneasy  !  " 

"  I  will,  on  one  condition  :  that  you  own  that  you 
love  him." 

"  Why    should    you    force  me  to  that  ? "  she  mur- 
mured.    "It  would  be  no  such  wonder  if  I  did." 
"Come,  you  do." 
"  Well,  I  do." 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  20I 

"  Now  I'll  look  for  him.  Tabitha  Lark  doesn't 
stay  in  the  house,  does  she  ? " 

"No." 

Louis  took  a  light,  and  turned  away,  astonished 
that  his  sister  had  not  indignantly  resented  his  in- 
trusion and  the  nature  of  his  questioning,  if  she  was 
so  innocent  as  she  seemed  ! 

At  this  moment  a  slight  noise  was  heard  on  the 
staircase,  and  they  could  see  a  figure  rising  step  by 
step,  and  coming  forward  against  the  long  lights  of 
the  staircase  window.  It  was  Swithin,  in  his  ordinary 
dress,  and  carrying  his  boots  in  his  hand.  When  he 
beheld  them  standing  there  so  motionless,  he  looked 
rather  disconcerted,  but  came  on  towards  his  room. 

Lady  Constantine  was  too  much  agitated  to  speak, 
but  Louis  said  :  "  I  am  glad  to  see  you  again.  Hear- 
ing a  noise,  a  few  minutes  ago,  I  came  out  to  learn 
what  it  could  be.  I  found  you  absent,  and  we  have 
been  very  much  alarmed." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  said  Swithin,  with  contrition. 
"  I  owe  you  a  hundred  apologies  :  but  the  truth  is 
that  on  entering  my  bedroom  I  found  the  sky  re- 
markably clear,  and  though  I  told  you  that  the  ob- 
servation I  was  to  make  was  of  no  great  consequence, 
on  thinking  it  over  alone  I  felt  it  ought  not  to  be  al- 
lowed to  pass  ;  so  I  was  tempted  to  run  across  to  the 
observatory,  and  make  it,  as  I  had  hoped,  without  dis- 
turbing anybody.  If  I  had  known  that  I  should 
alarm  you,  I  would  not  have  done  it  for  the  world." 

Swithin  spoke  very  earnestly  to  Louis,  and  did  not 
observe  the  tender  reproach  in  Viviette's  eyes,  when 
he  showed  by  his  tale  his  decided  notion  that  the 
prim.e  use  of  starlight  nights  was  in  the  furtherance  of 
practical  astronomy. 

Everything  being  now  satisfactorily  explained,  the 
three  retired  to  their  several  chambers,  and  Louis 
heard  no  more  noises  that  night,  or  rather  morning  ; 
his  attempts  to  solve  the  mystery  of  Viviette's  life 
here  and  her  relations  with  St.  Cleeve  having  thus 
far  resulted  chiefly  in  perplexity.  True,  an  admission 
had  been  wrung  from  her  ;  and  even  without  such  an 


202  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

admission,  it  was  clear  that  she  had  a  tender  feeling 
for  Swithin.  How  to  extinguish  that  romantic  folly 
it  now  became  his  object  to  consider. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

CWITHIN'S  midnight  excursion  to  the  tower  in  the 
cause  of  science  led  him  to  oversleep  himself,  and 
when  the  brother  and  sister  met  at  breakfast  in  the 
morning  he  did  not  appear. 

"  Don't  disturb  him — don't  disturb  him,"  said  Louis, 
laconically.  "  Hullo,  Viviette,  what  are  you  reading 
there  that  makes  you  flame  up  so?" 

She  was  glancing  over  a  letter  that  she  had  just 
opened,  and  at  his  words  looked  up  with  misgiving. 
The  incident  of  the  previous  night  left  her  in  great 
doubt  as  to  what  her  bearing  towards  him  ought  to 
be.  She  had  made  no  show  of  resenting  his  conduct 
at  the  time,  from  a  momentary  supposition  that  he 
must  know  all  her  secret;  and  afterwards,  finding  that 
he  did  not  know  it,  it  seemed  too  late  to  affect  indigna- 
tion at  his  suspicions.  So  she  preserved  a  quiet  neu- 
trality. Even  had  she  resolved  on  an  artificial  part, 
she  might  have  forgotten  to  play  it  at  this  instant,  the 
letter  being  of  a  kind  to  banish  previous  considera- 
tions. 

"  It  is  a  letter  from  Bishop  Helmsdale,"  she  faltered.  ■ 

"Well  done!     I  hope,  for  your  sake,  it  is  an  offer." 

"That's  just  what  it  is." 

"  No — surely?"  said  Louis,  beginning  a  laugh  of  sur- 
prise. 

"Yes,"  she  returned,  indifferently.  "You  can  read 
it,  if  you  like." 

"  I  don't  wish  to  pry  into  a  communication  of  that 
sort." 

"Oh,  you  can  read  it,"  she  said,  tossing  the  letter 
across  to  him. 

Louis  thereupon  read  as  under: 


riVO  ON  A   TOIVER.  203 

The  Palace, 


LACE,  MeLCHESTER,  ) 

/line  28,  18 — .  ) 


My  DEAR  Lady  Constantine:  During  the  two  or 
tl'vee  weeks  that  have  elapsed  since  I  experienced  the 
great  pleasure  of  renewing  my  acquaintance  with  you, 
the  varied  agitation  of  my  feelings  has  clearly  proved 
that  my  only  course  is  to  address  you  by  letter,  and 
at  once.  Whether  the  subject  of  my  communication 
be  acceptable  to  you  or  not,  I  can  at  least  assure  you 
that  to  suppress  it  would  be  far  less  than  natural,  and 
upon  the  whole  less  advisable,  than  to  speak  out 
frankly,  even  if  afterwards  I  hold  my  peace  forever. 

The  great  change  in  my  experience  during  the  past 
year  or  two — the  change,  that  is,  which  has  resulted 
from  my  advancement  to  a  bishopric — has  frequently 
suggested  to  me,  of  late,  that  a  discontinuance  in  my 
domestic  life  of  the  solitude  of  past  years  was  a  ques- 
tion which  ought  to  be  seriously  contemplated.  But 
whether  I  should  ever  have  contemplated  it  without 
the  great  good  fortune  of  my  meeting  with  you  is 
doubtful.  However,  the  thing  has  been  considered  at 
last,  and  without  more  ado  I  candidly  ask  if  you  would 
be  willing  to  give  up  your  life  at  Welland,  and  relieve 
my  household  loneliness  here  by  becoming  my  wife. 

I  am  far  from  desiring  to  force  a  hurried  decision 
on  your  part,  and  will  wait  your  good  pleasure  pa- 
tiently, should  you  feel  an)'  uncertainty  at  the  moment 
as  to  the  step.  I  am  quite  disqualified,  by  habits  and 
experience,  for  the  delightful  procedure  of  urging  my 
suit  in  the  ardent  terms  which  would  be  so  appropri- 
ate towards  such  a  lady,  and  so  expressive  of  my  in- 
most feelings.  In  truth,  a  prosy  cleric  of  five-and- 
forty  wants  encouragement  to  make  him  eloquent. 
Of  this,  however,  I  can  assure  you:  that  if  admiration, 
esteem,  and  devotion  can  compensate  in  any  way  for 
the  lack  of  tiiose  qualities  which  might  be  found  to 
burn  with  more  outward  brightness  in  a  younger  man, 
those  it  is  in  my  power  to  bestow  for  the  term  of  my 
earthly  life.  Your  steady  adherence  to  church  princi- 
ples and  your  interest  in  ecclesiastical  policy  (as  was 
shown  by  your  bright  questioning  on   those  subjects 


204  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

during  our  morning  walk  round  your  grounds)  have 
indicated  strongly  to  me  the  grace  and  appropriate- 
ness with  which  you  would  fill  the  position  of  a  bish- 
op's wife,  and  how  greatly  you  would  add  to  his  repu- 
tation, should  you  be  disposed  to  honor  him  with  your 
hand.  Formerly  there  have  been  times  when  I  was 
of  opinion — and  you  will  rightly  appreciate  my  candor 
in  owning  it — that  a  wife  was  an  impediment  to  a 
bishop's  due  activities;  but  constant  observation  has 
convinced  me  that,  far  from  this  being  the  truth,  a 
meet  consort  infuses  life  into  episcopal  influence  and 
teaching. 

Should  you  reply  in  the  afifirmative  I  will  at  once 
come  to  see  you,  and  with  your  permission  will,  among 
other  things,  show  you  a  few  plain,  practical  rules 
which  I  have  interested  myself  in  drawing  up  for  our 
future  guidance.  Should  you  refuse  to  change  your 
condition  on  my  account,  your  decision  will,  as  I  need 
hardly  say,  be  a  great  blow  to  me.  In  any  event,  I 
could  not  do  less  than  I  have  done,  after  giving  the 
subject  my  full  consideration.  Even  if  there  be  a 
slight  deficiency  of  warmth  on  your  part,  my  earnest 
hope  is  that  a  mind  comprehensive  as  yours  will  per- 
ceive the  immense  power  for  good  that  you  might 
exercise  in  the  position  in  which  a  union  with  me 
would  place  you,  and  allow  that  perception  to  weigh 
in  determining  your  answer. 

I  remain,  dear  Lady  Constantine,  with  the  highest 
respect  and  affection. 

Yours  always, 

C.  Melchester. 

"Well,  you  will  not  have  the  foolhardiness  to 
decline,  now  that  the  question  has  actually  been 
popped,  I  should  hope,"  said  Louis,  when  he  had  done 
reading. 

"Certainly  I  shall,"  she  replied. 

"You  will  really  be  such  a  fool,  Viviette?" 

"You  speak  without  much  compliment.  I  have  not 
the  least  idea  of  accepting  him." 

"  Surely  you  will  not  let  your   infatuation   for   that 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  205 

young  fellow  carry  you  so  far,  after  my  acquainting 
you  with  the  shady  side  of  his  character?  You  call 
yourself  a  religious  woman,  say  your  prayers  out  loud, 
follow  up  the  revived  methods  in  church  practice,  and 
what  not;  and  yet  you  can  think  with  partiality  of  a 
person  who,  far  from  having  any  religion  in  him, 
breaks  the  most  elementary  commandments  in  the 
decalogue." 

"I  cannot  agree  with  3'ou,"  she  said,  turning  her 
face  askance,  for  she  knew  not  how  much  of  her 
brother's  language  was  real,  and  how  much  assumed, 
the  extent  of  his  discoveries  with  regard  to  her  secret 
ties  being  a  mystery.  At  moments  she  was  disposed 
to  declare  the  whole  truth,  and  have  done  with  it. 
But  she  hesitated,  and  left  the  words  unsaid;  and 
Louis  continued  his  breakfast  in  silence. 

When  he  had  finished,  and  she  had  eaten  little  or 
nothing,  he  asked  once  more:  "IIow  do  you  intend  to 
answer  that  letter?  Here  you  are,  the  poorest  woman 
in  the  county,  abandoned  by  people  who  used  to  be 
glad  to  know  you,  and  leading  a  life  as  dismal  and 
dreary  as  a  nun's,  when  an  opportunity  is  offered  you 
of  leaping  at  once  into  a  leading  position  in  this  part 
of  England.  Bishops  are  given  to  hospitality;  you 
would  be  welcomed  everywhere.  In  short,  your 
answer  must  be  yes." 

"And  yet  it  will  be  no,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice. 
She  had  at  last  learnt,  from  the  tone  of  her  brother's 
latter  remarks,  that  at  any  rate  he  had  no  knowledge 
of  her  actual  marriage,  whatever  the  indirect  tie  of 
which  he  might  suspect  her  guilty. 

Louis  could  restrain  himself  no  longer  at  her  an- 
swer. "  Then  conduct  your  affairs  your  own  way.  I  know 
you  to  be  leading  a  life  that  won't  bear  investigation, 
and  I'm  damned  if  I'll  stay  here  any  longer." 

Saying  which,  Granville  jerked  back  his  chair,  and 
strode  out  of  the  room.  In  less  than  a  quarter  of  an 
hour,  and  before  she  had  moved  a  step  from  the  table, 
she  heard  him  leaving  the  house. 


206  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

V\/'HAT  to  do  she  could  not  tell.  The  step  to  which 
Swithin  had  entreated  her,  objectionable  and  pre- 
mature as  it  had  seemed,  in  a  social  aspect,  would 
at  all  events  have  saved  her  from  this  dilemma.  Had 
she  allowed  him  to  tell  the  bishop  his  simple  story  in 
its  fullness,  who  could  say  but  that  that  dignitary 
might  have  generously  bridled  his  own  impulses,  en- 
tered into  the  case  with  sympathy,  and  forwarded  with 
zest  their  designs  for  the  future,  owing  to  his  interest 
of  old  in  Swithin's  father,  and  in  the  naturally  attract- 
ive features  of  the  young  man's  career. 

A  puff  of  wind  from  the  open  window,  wafting  the 
bishop's  letter  to  the  floor,  aroused  her  from  her  reve- 
ry.  With  a  sigh  she  stooped  and  picked  it  up, 
glanced  at  it  again,  then  arose,  and  with  the  deliber- 
ateness  of  predetermined  purpose,   wrote  her  reply: — 


Welland  House,  June  29,  18 — . 

My  Dear  Bishop  of  Melchester — I  confess  to  you 
that  your  letter,  so  gracious  and  flattering  as  it  is,  has 
taken  your  friend  somewhat  unawares.  There  is  no  one 
in  the  world  who  esteems  your  high  qualities  more 
than  myself,  or  who  has  greater  faith  in  your  ability 
to  adorn  the  episcopal  seat  that  you  have  been  called 
on  to  fill.  But  to  your  question  I  can  give  only  one 
reply,  and  that  is  an  unqualified  negative.  To  state 
this  unavoidable  decision  distresses  me  without  affect 
ation;  and  I  trust  you  will  believe  that,  though  I  de- 
cline the  distinction  of  becoming  your  wife,  I  shall 
never  cease  to  interest  myself  in  all  that  pertains  to 
you  and  your  office;  and  shall  feel  the  keenest  regret 


riVO  OAT  A   rOWER.  207 

if  this  refusal  should    interfere  to  prevent  a  lifelong 
friendship  between  us. 

I  am,  my  dear  Bishop  of  Melchester, 
Ever  sincerely  yours, 

ViVIETTE  . 

"  Viviette  what  ?"  she  exclaimed  to  herself  hopeless- 
ly, as  she  flung  down  the  pen.  A  sudden  revulsion 
from  the  subterfuge  of  signing  herself  "  Viviette  Con- 
stantine,"  in  a  letter  of  this  serious  sort,  and  the  im- 
practicability of  using  another  signature  for  the  pres- 
ent, wrought  in  her  mind  a  feeling  of  dissatisfaction 
with  the  whole  epistle,  and  pushing  it  aside  she  al- 
lowed it  to  remain  unfinished.  In  a  few  minutes  she 
heard  Swithin  approaching,  when  she  put  the  letter 
out  of  the  way,  and  turned  to  receive  him. 

Swithin  entered  quietly,  and  looked  round  the  room. 
Seeing,  with  unexpected  pleasure,  that  she  was  there 
alone,  he  came  over  and  kissed  her.  Her  discompo- 
sure at  some  foregone  event  was  soon  obvious.  "  Has 
my  staying  caused  you  any  trouble?"  he  asked,  in  a 
whisper.     "Where   is  your  brother,  this  morning?" 

She  smiled  through  her  perplexity  as  she  took  his 
hand.  "  Tlie  oddest  things  happen  to  me,  dear  Swith- 
in," she  said.  "  Do  you  wish  particularly  to  know 
what  has  happened?" 

"Yes,  if  vou  don't  mind  telling  me." 

**  I  do  mind  telling  you.  Among  other  things,  I 
am  resolving  to  give  way  to  your  representations — in 
part,  at  least.  It  will  be  best  to  tell  the  bishop  every- 
thing, and  my  brother,  if  not  other  people." 

"  I  am  truly  glad  to  hear  it,  Viviette,"  said  he,  cheer- 
fully. "  I  have  felt  for  a  long  time  that  honesty  is  the 
best  policy." 

"I  at  any  rate  feel  it  now.  But  it  is  a  policy  that 
requires  a  great  deal  of  courage!" 

"  It  certainly  requires  some  courage — I  should  not 
say  a  great  deal;  and,  indeed,  as  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned, it  demands  less  courage  to  speak  out  than  to 
hold  my  tongue." 

"But,  you  silly  boy,  you  don't  know  what  has  hap- 


2o8  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

pened.     The  bishop  has  made  me  an   offer  of  mar- 
riage." 

"Good  gracious,  what  an  impertinent  old  man! 
What  have  you  done  about  it,  dearest?" 

"  Well,  I  have  hardly  accepted  him,"  she  replied, 
laughing.  "  It  is  this  event  vi^hich  has  suggested  to 
me  that  I  make  my  refusal  a  reason  for  confiding  our 
situation  to  him." 

"  What  would  you  have  done  had  you  not  been  al- 
ready appropriated?" 

"That's  an  inscrutable  mystery.  He  is  a  worthy 
man;  but  he  has  very  pronounced  views  about  his  own 
position,  and  some  other  undesirable  qualities.  Still, 
who  knows?  You  must  bless  your  stars  that  you  have 
secured  me.  Now  let  us  consider  how  to  draw  up  our 
confession  to  him.  I  wish  I  had  listened  to  you  at 
the  first,  and  allowed  you  to  take  him  into  our  confi- 
dence before  his  declaration  arrived.  He  may  possi- 
bly resent  the  concealment  now.  However,  this  can- 
not be  helped." 

"  I  tell  you  what,  Viviette,"  said  Swithin,  after  a 
thoughtful  pause.  "  If  the  bishop  is  such  a  sort  of 
man  as  this,  a  man  who  goes  falling  in  love,  and  want- 
ing to  marry  y(.u,  and  so  on,  I  am  not  disposed  to 
confess  anything  to  him  at  all.  I  fancied  him  alto- 
gether different  from  that." 

"  But  he's  none  the  worse  for  it,  dear." 

"  I  think  he  is — to  lecture  me  and  love  you  all  in 
one  breath." 

"  Still,  that's  only  a  passing  phase,  and  you  first 
proposed  making  a  confidant  of  him." 

"  I  did.  .  .  .  Very  well.  Then  we  are  to  tell  nobody 
but  the  bishop?" 

"And  my  brother  Louis.  I  must  tell  him;  it  is  un- 
avoidable. He  suspects  me  in  a  way  I  could  never 
have  credited  of  him." 

Swithin,  as  was  before  stated,  had  arranged  to  start 
for  Greenwich  that  morning,  permission  having  been 
accorded  to  him  by  the  Astronomer-Royal,  to  view 
the  Observatory;  and  their  final  decision  was  that,  as 
he  could  not  afford  time  to  sit  down  with  her,  and 


TWO  OiV  A   TOWER.  209 

write  to  the  bishop  in  collaboration,  each  should, 
during  the  day,  compose  a  well-considered  letter,  dis- 
closing their  position  from  his  and  her  own  point  of 
view;  Lady  Constantine  leading  up  to  her  confession 
by  her  refusal  of  the  bishop's  hand.  It  was  necessary 
that  she  should  know  what  Swithin  contemplated  say- 
ing, that  her  statements  might  precisely  harmonize. 
He  ultimately  agreed  to  send  her  his  letter  by  the 
next  morning's  post,  when,  having  read  it,  she  would 
in  due  course  dispatch  it  with  her  own. 

As  soon  as  he  had  breakfasted,  Swithin  went  his 
way,  promising  to  return  from  Greenwich  by  the  end 
of  the  week.  Viviette  passed  the  remainder  of  that 
long  summer  day,  during  which  her  husband  was  re- 
ceding toward  the  capital,  in  an  almost  motionless 
state.  At  some  instants  she  felt  exultant  at  the  idea 
of  announcing  her  marriage,  and  defying  general 
opinion.  At  another  her  heart  misgave  her,  and  she 
was  tormented  by  a  fear  lest  Swithin  should  some 
day  accuse  her  of  having  hampered  his  deliberately 
shaped  plan  of  life  by  her  intrusive  romanticism. 
That  was  often  the  trick  of  men  who  had  sealed  by 
marriage  in  their  inexperienced  youth  a  love  for  those 
whom  their  maturer  judgment  would  have  rejected  as 
too  obviously  disproportionate  in  years. 

However,  it  was  now  too  late  for  these  lugubrious 
thoughts;  and,  bracing  herself,  she  began  to  frame 
the  new  reply  to  Bishop  Helmsdale — the  plain,  unvar- 
nished tale  that  was  to  supplant  the  undivulging  an- 
swer first  written.  She  was  engaged  on  this  difficult 
production  till  daylight  faded  in  the  west,  and  the 
broad-faced  moon  edged  upward,  like  a  disk  of  old 
gold,  over  the  elms  toward  the  village.  By  that  time 
Swithin  had  reached  Greenwich;  her  brother  had 
gone  she  knew  not  where;  and  she  and  loneliness 
dwelt  solely,  as  before,  within  the  walls  of  Welland 
House. 

At  this  hour  of  sunset  and  moonrise,  the  new 
parlor-maid  entered,  to  inform  her  that  Mr.  Cecil's 
head  clerk,  from  Warborne,  particularly  wished  to  see 
her. 

14 


2IO  71F0  OJV  A   TOWER. 

Mr.  Cecil  was  her  solicitor,  and  she  knew  of  nothing 
whatever  that  required  his  intervention  just  at  pres- 
ent. But  he  would  not  have  sent  just  at  this  time  of 
day  without  excellent  reasons,  and  she  directed  that 
the  young  man  might  be  shown  in  where  she  was. 
On  his  entry,  the  first  thing  that  she  noticed  was  that 
in  his  hand  he  carried  a  newspaper. 

"  In  case  you  should  not  have  seen  this  evening's 
paper,  Lady  Constantine,  Mr.  Cecil  has  directed  me 
to  bring  it  to  you  at  once,  on  account  of  what  appears 
there  in  relation  to  your  ladyship.  He  has  only  just 
seen  it  himself." 

"  What  is  it?     How  does  it  concern  me?" 

"  I  will  point  it  out." 

"  Read  it  yourself  to  me.  Though  I  am  afraid  there's 
not  enough  light." 

"  I  can  see  very  well  here,"  said  the  lawyer's  clerk, 
stepping  to  the  window;  and  folding  back  the  paper, 
he  read: 

NEWS   FROM   SOUTH    AFRICA. 

'"Cape  Town,  May  17,  via  Plymouth. — A  corres- 
pondent of  the  Cape  Chronicle  states  that  he  has  inter- 
viewed an  Englishman  just  arrived  from  the  interior, 
and  learns  from  him  that  a  considerable  misapprehen- 
sion exists  in  England  concerning  the  death  of  the 
traveler  and  hunter.  Sir  Blount  Constantine •'  " 

"Oh,  he's  living  !  My  husband  is  alive!"  she  cried, 
sinking  down  in  nearly  a  fainting  condition. 

"  No,  my  lady.  Sir  Blount  is  dead  enough,  I  am 
sorry  to  say." 

*'  Dead,  did  you  say  ?" 

"  Certainly,  Lady  Constantine;  there  is  no  doubt 
of  it." 

She  sat  up,  and  her  intense  relief  almost  made  itself 
perceptible  like  a  fresh  atmosphere  in  the  room. 
"Yes.  Then  what  did  you  come  for?"  she  asked 
calmly. 

*'  That  Sir  Blount  has  died  is  unquestionable,"  re- 
plied the  lawyer's  clerk,  gently.  "But  there  has  been 
some  mistake  about  the  date  of  his  death." 


TWO  O2V  A    TOWER.  211 

"  He  died  of  malarious  fever  on  the  banks  of  the 
Zonga,  November  4,  18 — ." 

"  No;  he  only  lay  ill  there  a  long  time  it  seems.  It 
was  a  companion  who  died  at  that  date.  But  I'll 
read  the  account  to  your  ladyship,  with  your  permis- 
sion : 

"  'The  decease  of  this  somewhat  eccentric  wanderer 
did  not  occur  at  the  time  hitherto  supposed,  but  only 
in  last  December.  The  following  is  the  account  of  the 
Englishman  alluded  to,  given  as  nearly  as  possible  in 
his  own  words:  During  the  illness  of  Sir  Blount  and 
his  friend  by  the  Zonga,  three  of  the  servants  went 
away,  taking  with  them  a  portion  of  his  clothing  and 
effects;  and  it  must  be  they  who  spread  the  report  of 
his  death  at  this  time.  After  his  companion's  death 
he  mended,  and  when  he  was  strong  enough  he  and  I 
traveled  on  to  a  healthier  district.  I  urged  him  not 
to  delay  his  return  to  England;  but  he  was  much 
against  gf)ing  back  there  again,  and  became  so  rough 
in  manner  toward  me  that  we  parted  company  at  the 
first  opportunity  I  could  find.  I  joined  a  party  of 
white  traders  returning  to  the  west  coast.  I  stayed 
here  ai^ong  the  Portuguese  for  many  months.  I  then 
found  that  an  English  traveling  party  were  going  to 
explore  a  district  adjoining  that  which  I  had  formerly 
traversed  with  Sir  Blount.  They  said  they  would  be 
glad  of  my  services,  and  I  joined  them.  When  we 
had  crossed  the  territory  to  the  south  of  Ulunda,  and 
drew  near  to  Marzambo,  I  heard  tidings  of  a  man  liv- 
ing there  whom  I  suspected  to  be  Sir  Blount,  although 
he  was  r-ot  known  by  that  name.  Being  so  near,  I 
was  induced  to  seek  him  out,  and  found  that  he  was 
indeed  t)  e  same.  He  had  dropped  his  old  name  alto- 
gether, a  id  had  married  a  native  princess '  " 

"  Marr  ed  a  native  princess  ?  "  said  Lady  Constan- 
tine. 

"  That  \  what  it  says,  my  Lady — '  married  a  native 
princess  according  to  the  rites  of  the  tribe,  and  was 
living  ve»-v  happily  with  her.  He  told  me  he  should 
never  retL  rn  to  England  again.  He  also  told  me  that, 
having  seen  this  princess  just  after  I  had  left  iiim,  he 


212  TIVO  ON  A   TOWER. 

had  been  attracted  by  her,  and  had  thereupon  decided 
to  reside  with  her  in  that  country,  as  being  a  land 
which  afforded  him  greater  happiness  than  he  could 
hope  to  obtain  elsewhere.  He  asked  me  to  stay  with 
him,  instead  of  going  on  with  my  party,  and  not  re- 
veal his  real  title  to  any  of  them.  After  some  hesita- 
tion I  did  stay,  and  was  not  uncomfortable  at  first. 
But  I  soon  found  that  Sir  Blount  drank  much  harder 
now  than  when  I  had  known  him,  and  that  he  was  at 
times  very  greatly  depressed  in  mind  a^  his  position. 
One  morning  in  February  last,  I  heard  a  shot  from 
his  dwelling.  His  wife  rushed  frantically  past  me,  as 
I  hastened  to  the  spot,  and  when  I  had  entered  I 
found  that  he  had  put  an  end  to  himself  with  his  re- 
volver. His  princess  was  broken-hearted  all  that  day. 
When  we  had  buried  him,  I  discovered  in  his  house  a 
little  box  directed  to  his  solicitors  at  Warborne,  in 
England,  and  a  note  for  myself,  saying  that  I  had  bet- 
ter get  the  first  chance  of  returning  that  offered,  and 
requesting  me  to  take  the  box  with  me.  It  is  supposed 
to  contain  papers  and  articles  for  friends  in  England 
who  have  deemed  him  dead  for  some  time.'  " 

The  clerk  stopped  his  reading,  and  there  was  a 
silence.  "  Last  February,"  she  at  length  said,  in  a 
whisper.     "  Has  the  box  arrived  yet  ?  " 

"Not  yet,  my  lady.  We  have  no  further  proof  of 
anything.  As  soon  as  the  package  arrives  to  hand 
you  shall  know  of  it  immediately." 

Such  was  the  clerk's  mission,  and,  leaving  the  paper 
with  her,  he  withdrew.  The  intelligence  amounted  to 
this  much  :  That  Sir  Blount,  having  been  alive  till  at 
least  ten  weeks  after  her  marriage  with  Swithin  St. 
Cleeve,  Swithin  St.  Cleeve  was  not  her  husband  in 
the  eye  of  the  law  ;  so  that  the  marriage  would  have 
to  be  repeated,  if  she  wished  to  become  legally  that 
young  man's  wife. 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  213 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

"M"  EXT  morning,  Viviette  received  a  visit  from  Mr. 
Cecil  himself.  He  informed  her  that  the  box 
spoken  of  by  the  servant  had  arrived  quite  unexpect- 
edly, just  after  the  departure  of  his  clerk  on  the  pre- 
vious evening.  There  had  not  been  sufficient  time  for 
him  thoroughly  to  examine  it  as  yet,  but  he  had  seen 
enough  to  enable  him  to  state  that  it  contained  letters, 
dated  memoranda  in  Sir  Blount's  handwriting,  notes 
referring  to  events  which  had  happened  later  than  his 
supposed  death,  and  other  irrefragable  proofs  that  the 
account  published  in  the  newspapers  was  correct — the 
comparatively  recent  date  of  Sir  Blount's  decease. 

She  looked  up,  and  spoke  with  the  irresponsible 
helplessness  of  a  child:  "  On  reviewing  the  circum- 
stances, I  cannot  think  how  I  could  have  allowed  my- 
self to  believe  the  first  tidings!"  she  said. 

"  Everybody  else  believed  them,  and  why  should  not 
you  have  done  so?"  said  the  lawyer. 

"  How  came  the  will  to  be  permitted  to  be  proved, 
as  there  could,  after  all,  have  been  no  complete  evi- 
dence?" she  asked.  "  If  I  had  been  the  executrix,  I 
would  not  have  attempted  it.  As  I  was  not,  I  know 
very  little  about  how  the  business  was  pushed  through. 
In  a  very  unseemly  way,  I  think." 

"  Well,  no,"  said  Mr.  Cecil,  feeling  himself  called 
upon  to  defend  law  practice  from  such  imputations, 
whatever  might  be  its  defects  in  the  present  instance. 
"  It  was  done  in  the  way  customary  in  all  cases  where 
the  proof  of  death  is  only  presumptive.  The  evidence, 
such  as  it  was,  was  laid  before  the  court  by  the  appli- 
cants, your  husband's  cousins,  and  the  servants  who 
had  been  with  him  deposed  to  his  death  with  a  partic- 
ularity that  was   deemed  sufficient.     Their  error  was, 


214  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

not  that  somebody  died — for  somebody  did  die  at  the 
time  afifirmed — but  that  they  mistook  one  person  for 
another;  the  person  who  died  not  being  Sir  Blount 
Constantine.  The  court  was  of  opinion  that  the  evi- 
dence led  up  to  a  reasonable  inference  that  the  de- 
ceased  was  actually  Sir  Blount,  and  probate  was 
granted  on  the  strength  of  it.  As  there  was  a  doubt 
about  the  exact  day  of  the  month,'  the  applicants  were 
allowed  to  swear  that  he  died  on  or  after  the  date  last 
given  of  his  existence — which,  in  spite  of  their  error 
then,  has  really  come  true  now,  of  course." 

"  They  little  think  what  they  have  done  to  me  by 
being  so  ready  to  swear!"  she  murmured. 

Mr.  Cecil,  supposing  her  to  allude  only  to  the  pecu- 
niary straits  in  which  she  had  been  prematurely  placed 
by  the  will  taking  effect  a  year  before  its  due  time, 
said:  "  True.  It  has  been  to  your  ladyship's  loss,  and 
to  their  gain.  But  they  will  make  ample  restitution, 
no  doubt;  and  all  will  be  wound  up  satisfactorily." 

Lady  Constantine  was  far  from  explaining  that  this 
was  not  her  meaning,  and  after  some  further  consul- 
tation of  a  purely  technical  nature,  Mr.  Cecil  left  her 
presence. 

When  she  was  again  unencumbered  with  the  neces- 
sity of  exhibiting  a  proper  bearing,  the  sense  that  she 
had  greatly  suffered  in  pocket  by  the  undue  haste  of 
the  executors  weighed  upon  her  mind  with  a  pressure 
quite  inappreciable  beside  the  greater  gravity  of  her 
personal  position.  What  was  her  situation  as  a  lega- 
tee to  her  situation  as  a  woman!  Her  face  crimsoned 
with  a  flush  which  she  was  almost  ashamed  to  show 
to  the  daylight,  as  she  hastily  penned  the  following 
note  to  Swithin  at  Greenwich — certainly  one  of  the 
most  informal  documents  she  had  ever  written; 

Welland,  Thursday. 
O  Swithin,  my  dear  Swithin,  what  I  have  to  tell  you 
is  so  sad  and  humiliating  that  I  can  hardly  write  it, 
and  yet  I  must!  Though  we  are  dearer  to  each  other 
than  all  the  world  beside,  and  as  firmly  united  as  if 
we  were  one,  I  am   not  legally  your  wife.     Sir  Blount 


TIVO  ON  A    TOWER.  215 

did  not  die  till  some  time  after  we  in  England  sup- 
posed. The  service  must  be  repeated  instantly.  I 
have  not  been  able  to  sleep  all  night.  I  feel  so  wrong 
and  unseemly  that  I  can  scarcely  collect  my  thoughts. 
The  newspaper  sent  with  this  will  explain,  if  you  have 
not  seen  particulars.  Do  come  to  me  as  soon  as  you 
can,  that  we  may  consult  on  what  to  do.  Burn  this 
at  once.  Your  Viviette. 

When  the  note  had  been  dispatched,  she  remem- 
bered that  there  was  another  hardly  less  important 
question  to  be  answered — the  proposal  of  the  bishop 
for  her  hand.  His  communication  had  sunk  into 
nothingness  beside  the  momentous  news  that  had  so 
greatly  distressed  her.  The  two  replies  lay  before  her; 
the  one  she  had  first  written,  simply  declining  to  be- 
come Dr.  Helmsdale's  wife  without  giving  reasons; 
the  second,  which  she  had  elaborated  with  so  much 
care  on  the  previous  day,  relating  in  confidential  de- 
tail the  history  of  her  love  for  Swithin,  their  secret 
marriage,  and  their  hopes  for  the  future — asking  his 
advice  on  what  their  procedure  should  be  to  escape 
the  strictures  of  a  censorious  world.  It  was  the  letter 
she  had  barely  finished  writing  when  Mr.  Cecil's  clerk 
announced  news  tantamount  to  a  declaration  that  she 
was  no  wife  at  all.  This  epistle  she  now  destroyed, 
and  with  the  less  reluctance  in  knowing  that  Swithin 
had  been  somewhat  averse  to  the  confession  as  soon 
as  he  found  that  Bishop  Helmsdale  was  also  a  victim 
to  tender  sentiment  concerning  her.  The  first,  which 
she  had  been  unable  honestly  to  sign  "Viviette  Con- 
stantine,"  and  could  not  openly  sign  "Viviette  St, 
Cleve,"  she  sadly  filled  with  the  former  surname,  and 
sent  the  missive  on  its  way.  Strange  it  was  to  her, 
and  yet  in  keeping  with  the  tenor  of  human  affairs, 
that  the  difficulty  of  signing  that  letter  should  have 
resolved  itself  by  the  only  means  which  at  the  time  of 
writing  she  would  have  deemed  non-existent.  There 
had  been  a  thousand  reasons  why  she  should  sign 
"Viviette  Constantine,"  even  when  believing  herself 
no  longer  owner  of  that  name;  that   she   should  ulti- 


ii6  TIVO  ON  A    TOWER. 

mately  sign  it  because  it  had  never  ceased  to  be  hers 
was  a  result  that  distanced  all  conjecture. 

The  sense  of  her  undefinable  position  kept  her  with- 
out much  repose  on  the  second  night  also;  but  the 
following  morning  brought  an  unexpected  letter  from 
Swithin,  written  about  the  same  hour  as  hers  to  him, 
and  it  comforted  her  much.  He  had  seen  the  account 
in  the  papers  almost  as  soon  as  it  had  come  to  her 
knowledge,  and  now  sent  this  line  to  reassure  her,  in 
the  perturbation  she  must  naturally  feel.  She  was  not 
to  be  alarmed  at  all.  They  two  were  husband  and 
wife  in  moral  intent  and  antecedent  belief,  and  the 
legal  flaw  which  accident  had  so  curiously  uncovered 
could  be  mended  in  half  an  hour.  He  would  return 
on  Saturday  night  at  the  latest;  but  as  the  hour  would 
be  far  advanced,  he  would  ask  her  to  meet  him  by 
slipping  out  of  the  house  to  the  tower  any  time  dur- 
ing service  on  Sunday  morning,  when  there  would  be 
few  persons  about  likely  to  observe  them.  Meanwhile, 
he  might  provisionally  state  that  their  best  course  in 
the  emergency  would  be,  instead  of  confessing  to  any- 
body that  there  had  already  been  a  solemnization  of 
marriage  between  them,  to  arrange  their  remarriage 
in  as  open  a  manner  as  possible,  as  if  it  were  the  just- 
reached  climax  of  a  sudden  affection;  prefacing  it  bv 
a  public  announcement  in  the  usual  way. 

This  plan  of  approaching  their  second  union  with  all 
the  show  and  circumstances  of  a  new  thing  recom- 
mended itself  to  her  strongly,  but  for  one  objection — 
that  by  such  a  course  the  wedding  could  not,  without 
appearing  like  an  act  of  unseemly  haste,  take  place  so 
quickly  as  she  desired  for  her  own  peace  of  mind.  It 
might  occur  somewhat  early,  say  in  the  course  of  a 
month  or  two,  without  bringing  down  upon  her  the 
charge  of  levity:  for  Sir  Blount,  a  notoriously  unkind 
husband  to  her,  had  been  out  of  her  sight  four 
or  five  years,  and  in  his  grave  nearly  one.  But  what 
she  naturally  desired  was  that  there  should  be  no  more 
delay  than  was  positively  necessary  for  obtaining  a 
new  license — two  or  three  daj^s  at  longest;  and  in  view 
of  this  celerity  it  was  next  to  impossible  to  make  due 


TWO  OJV  A    TOWER.  217 

preparation  for  a  wedding  of  ordinary  publicity,  per- 
formed in  her  own  church,  from  her  own  house,  with 
a  feast  and  amusements  for  the  villagers,  a  tea  for  the 
school-children,  a  bonfire,  and  other  of  those  procla- 
matory  accessories  which,  by  meeting  wonder  half- 
way, deprives  it  of  much  of  its  intensity.  It  must  be 
admitted,  too,  that  she  even  now  shrank  from  the 
shock  of  surprise  that  would  inevitably  be  caused  by 
her  openly  taking  for  her  husband  such  a  mere  youth 
as  Swithin  still  appeared,  notwithstanding  that  in 
years  he  was  by  this  time  within  a  trifle  of  one  and 
twenty. 

The  straightforward  course  had,  nevertheless,  so 
much  to  recommend  it,  and  so  well  avoided  the  disad- 
vantage of  future  revolution  which  a  private  repetition 
of  the  ceremony  would  entail,  that,  assuming 
she  could  depend  upon  Swithin,  as  she  knew  she 
could  do,  good  sense  counseled  its  serious  con- 
sideration. She  became  more  composed  at  her 
queer  situation  :  hour  after  hour  passed,  and 
the  first  spasmodic  impulse  of  womanly  decorum 
not  to  let  the  sun  go  down  upon  her  present  state  was 
quite  controllable.  She  could  regard  the  strange  con- 
tingency that  had  arisen  with  something  like  philoso- 
phy. The  day  slipped  by:  she  thought  of  the  awk- 
wardness of  the  accident  rather  than  of  its  humiliation; 
and,  loving  Swithin  now  in  a  far  calmer  spirit  than  at  a 
past  date,  when  they  had  for  the  first  time  rushed  into 
each  others  arms  and  vowed  to  be  one,  she  ever  and 
anon  caught  herself  reflecting:  "  Were  it  not  that,  for 
my  honor's  sake,  I  must  remarry  him,  I  should  per- 
haps be  a  nobler  woman  in  not  allowing  hmi  to  ham- 
per his  bright  future  by  a  union  with  me  at  all." 

This  thought,  at  first  artificially  entertained  as  little 
more  than  a  mental  exercise,  became  by  stages  a  gen- 
uine conviction;  and  while  her  heart  enforced,  her 
reason  regretted  the  necessity  of  abstaining  from  self 
sacrifice — the  being  obliged,  despite  his  curious  escape 
from  the  attempt,  to  lime  Swithin's  young  wings 
again   solely  for  her  credit's  sake. 

However,  the  deed  had  been  done:  Swithin  was  to 


2iS  TPVO  OA^  A   TOlVEJi. 

be  made  legally  hers.  Selfishness  in  a  conjecture  of 
this  sort  was  excusable,  and  even  obligatory.  Taking 
brighter  views,  she  allowed  herself  to  hope  that  upon 
the  whole  the  yoking  of  the  young  fellow  with  her,  a 
portionless  woman  and  his  senior,  would  not  greatly 
endanger  his  career.  In  such  a  mood  night  overtook 
her,  and  she  went  to  bed  reflecting  that  Swithin  had 
by  this  time  arrived  in  the  parish — was  perhaps  even 
at  that  moment  passing  homeward  beneath  her  walls 
— and  that  in  less  than  twelve  hours  she  would  have 
met  him,  have  ventilated  the  secret  which  oppressed 
her,  and  have  satisfactorily  arranged  with  him  the 
details  of  their  re-union. 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

CUNDAY  morning  came,  and  complicated  her  pre- 
vious emotions  by  bringing  with  it  a  new  and  un- 
expected shock  to  mingle  with  them.  The  postman 
had  delivered,  among  other  things,  an  illustrated 
newspaper,  sent  by  a  hand  which  she  did  not  recog- 
nize; and  on  opening  the  cover  the  sheet  that  met 
her  eyes  filled  her  with  horror  which  she  could  not 
express.  The  print  was  one  which  drew  largely  on 
its  imagination  for  its  engravings,  and  it  already 
contained  an  illustration  of  the  death  of  Sir  Blount 
Constantine.  In  this  work  of  art  he  was  represented 
as  standing  with  his  pistol  to  his  mouth,  his  brains 
being  in  the  act  of  flying  up  to  the  roof  of  his 
chamber,  and  his  native  princess  rushing  terror-strick- 
en away  to  a  remote  position  in  the  thicket  of  palms 
which  neighbored  the  dwelling. 

The  crude  realism  of  the  picture,  possibly  harmless 
enough  in  its  effect  upon  others,  naturally  overpower- 
ed and  sickened  her.  By  a  curious  fascination  she 
would  look  at  it  again  and  again,  till  every  line  of  the 
engraver's  performance  seemed  really  a  transcript 
from  what  had  happened.  For  the  first  time,  on  these 
grounds,  she  felt  it  to  be  a  trying  position   that,  with 


TWO  ON  A   TO  WE  J?,  219 

such  details  so  fresh  in  her  thoughts,  she  was  obliged 
to  go  out  and  make  arrangements  for  confirming,  by 
repetition,  her  marriage  with  another.  No  interval 
was  available  for  serious  reflection,  or  for  allowing  the 
softening  effects  of  time  to  operate  in  her  mind.  It 
was  as  though  her  first  husband  had  died  that  mo- 
ment, and  she  were  keeping  an  appointment  with  an- 
other in  the  presence  of  his  corpse. 

So  revived  was  the  actuality  of  Sif  Blount's  recent 
life  and  death  by  this  incident,  that  the  distress  of  her 
personal  relations  witli  Swithin  was  the  single  force  in 
the  world  which  could  have  coerced  her  into  abandon- 
ing to  him  the  interval  she  would  have  first  set 
apart  for  getting  over  these  new  and  painful  impres- 
sions of  her  former  husband.  Self-pity  for  ill-usage 
afforded  her  good  reasons  for  ceasing  to  love  him,  but 
he  was  yet  too  closely  intertwined  with  her  past  life  to 
be  destructible  on  the  instant  as  a  memory. 

But  there  was  no  choice  of  occasions  for  her  now,  and 
she  listlessly  waited  for  the  church  bells  to  cease  chim- 
ing? When  all  was  still,  and  the  surrounding  cotta- 
gers had  gathered  themselves  within  the  walls  of  the 
adjacent  building,  and  Tabitha  Lark's  first  voluntary 
had  pealed  from  the  tower  window,  Lady  Constantine 
left  the  garden  in  which  she  had  been  loitering,  and 
went  towards  Rings  Hill  Speer. 

The  sense  of  the  situation  obscured  the  morning 
prospect.  The  country  was  unusually  silent  under  the 
intensifying  sun,  the  songless  season  of  birds  having 
arrived.  Choosing  her  path  amid  the  efts  that  were 
basking  upon  the  outer  slope  of  tlie  plantation,  she 
wound  her  way  up  the  tree-shrouded  camp  to  the 
wooden  cabin  in  the  center.  The  door  was  ajar,  but 
on  entering  she  found  the  place  empty.  The  tower 
door  was  also  partly  open,  and,  listening  at  the  foot  of 
the  stairs,  she  heard  Swithin  above,  shifting  the  tel- 
escope and  wheeling  round  the  rumbling  dome,  appar- 
rently  in  preparation  for  the  next  nocturiuU  reconnoi- 
ter.  There  was  no  doubt  that  he  would  descend  in  a 
minute  or  two  to  look  for  her,  and,  not  wishing  to  in- 
terrupt him  till  he  was  ready,  she  re-ente^-ed  the  cabin, 


220  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

and  patiently  seated  herself  among  the  books  and  pa- 
pers that  lay  scattered  about. 

She  did  as  she  had  often  done  before  when  waiting 
there  for  him  ;  that  is,  she  occupied  herself  in  turning 
over  the  papers,  and  examining  the  progress  of  his 
labors.  The  notes  were  mostly  astronomical,  of  course, 
and  she  had  managed  to  keep  sufficiently  abreast  of 
him  to  catch  the  meaning  of  a  good  many  of  these. 
The  litter  on  the  table,  however,  was  somewhat  more 
profuse  and  miscellaneous  in  character  this  morning, 
as  if  the  papers  had  been  hurriedly  overhauled.  Among 
the  /e^st  of  the  sheets  lay  an  open  note,  which,  in  the 
entire  confidence  that  existed  between  them,  she 
glanced  over  and  read  as  a  matter  of  course. 

It  was  a  most  business-like  communication,  and  be- 
yond the  address  and  date  contained  only  the  follow- 
ing words  : 

Dear  Sir, — We  beg  leave  to  draw  your  attention  to 
a  Iteter  we  addressed  to  you  on  the  26th  ult.,  to  which 
we  have  not  yet  been  favored  with  a  reply.  As  the 
time  for  the  payment  of  the  first  moiety  of  your  four 
hundred  pounds  per  annum,  settled  on  you  by  your 
late  uncle,  is  now  at  hand,  we  should  be  obliged  by 
your  giving  directions  as  to  where  and  in  what  manner 
the  money  is  to  be  handed  over  to  you,  and  shall  also 
be  glad  to  receive  any  other  definite  instructions  from 
you  with  regard  to  the  future. 

We  are,  dear  sir,  yours  faithfully, 

Hanner  &  Rawles. 
Swithin  St.  Cleeve,  Esq. 

An  income  of  four  hundred  ayear  for  Swithin,  whom 
she  had  hitherto  understood  to  be  possessed  of  an  an- 
nuity of  eighty  pounds  at  the  outside,  with  no  prospect 
of  increasing  the  sum  exceptby  hard  work  !  What  could 
this  communication  mean  ?  He,  whose  custom  and 
delight  it  was  to  tell  her  all  his  heart,  had  not  breathed  a 
syllable  of  this  matter  to  her,  though  it  met  the  very  dif- 
ficulty towards  which  their  discussions  invariably  tend- 


TIVO  OiV  A    TOWER.  221 

ed — how  to  secure  for  him  a  competency  which  should 
enable  him  to  establish  his  pursuits  on  a  wider  basis, 
and  throw  himself  into  more  direct  communion  with 
the  scientific  world.  Quite  bewildered  by  the  lack  of 
any  explanation,  she  rose  from  her  seat,  and,  with  the 
note  in  her  hand,  ascended  the  winding  tower  steps. 

Reaching  the  upper  aperture,  she  perceived  him 
under  the  dome,  moving  musingly  about,  as  if  he  had 
never  been  absent  an  hour,  his  light  hair  frilling  out 
from  under  the  edge  of  his  velvet  skull-cap  as  it  had 
always  been  wont  to  do.  No  question  either  of  mar- 
riage or  not  marriage  seemed  to  be  disturbing  the 
mind  of  this  juvenile  husband  of  hers.  The  be-all  and 
end-all  of  his  existence  was  apparently  before  riim, 
namely,  the  equatorial  telescope  which  he  was  care- 
fully adjusting  by  means  of  screws  and  clamps,  till, 
hearing  her  movements,  he  turned  his  head. 

"  Oh,  here  you  are,  my  dear  Viviette  !  I  was  just 
beginning  to  expect  you  !"  he  exclaimed,  coming  for- 
ward. "  I  ought  to  have  been  looking  out  for  you  ; 
but  1  have  found  a  defect  here  in  the  instrument  and 
I  wanted  to  set  it  right  before  evening  came  on.  It  is 
not  a  good  thing  to  tinker  your  glasses,  but  I  have 
found  that  the  diffraction  rings  are  not  perfect 
circles.  I  have  learnt  at  Greenwich  how  to  correct 
them — so  kind  they  have  been  to  me  there! — and  so  I 
have  been  loosening  the  screws  of  the  cell,  and  gently 
shifting  the  glass,  till  I  think  that  I  have  at  last  made 
illumination  equal  all  around.  I  have  so  much  to  tell 
you  about  my  visit.  One  thing  is  that  the  astrono- 
mical world  is  getting  quite  excited  about  the  coming 
transit  of  Venus.  There  is  to  be  a  regular  expedition 
fitted  out.     How  I  should  like  to  join  it !" 

He  spoke  enthusiastically,  and  his  eyes  sparkled  at 
the  mental  image  6i  the  said  expedition.  As  it  was 
rather  dark  in  the  dome,  he  rolled  it  round  on  its  axis 
till  the  shuttered  slit  for  the  telescope  directly  faced 
the  morning  sun,  which  thereupon  flooded  the  con- 
cave, touched  the  bright  metal  work  of  the  equatorial, 
and  lighting  up  Lady  Constantine's  pale,  troubled 
face. 


■^22  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

"  But  Swithin,"  she  faltered,  "  my  letter  to  you — our 
marriage  !  " 

"Oh  yes — this  marriage  question,"  he  hastily  added. 
"  I  had  not  forgotten  it,  or  at  least  only  a  few  minutes." 

"  Can  you  forget  it,  Swithin,  for  a  moment  ?  Oh; 
how  can  you  ?"  she  said,  reproachfully.  "It is  such  a 
distressing  thing.     It  drives  awiy  all  my  rest." 

"  Forgotten  is  not  the  word  I  should  have  used,"  he 
apologized.  "Temporarily  dismissed  it  from  my  mind 
is  all  I  meant.  The  simple  fact  is  that  the  vastness 
of  the  field  of  astronomy  reduces  every  terrestrial 
thing  to  atomic  dimensions.  Do  not  trouble,  dearest. 
The  remedy  is  quite  easy,  as  I  stated  in  my  letter. 
We  can  now  be  married  in  a  prosy,  public  way.  Yes, 
early  or  late,  next  week,  next  month,  six  months 
hence,  just  as  you  choose.  Say  the  word  when,  and  I 
will  obey."  His  face,  with  its  absence  of  all  anxiety 
or  consternation,  contrasted  strangely  with  hers,  which 
at  last  he  saw,  and,  looking  at  the  writing  she  held, 
inquired  :  "But  what  paper  have  you  in  your  hand  ?" 

"  A  letter  which  to  me  is  actually  inexplicable,"  said 
she,  her  curiosity  returning  to  the  letter,  and  overrid- 
ing for  the  instant  her  immediate  concern.  "  What 
does  this  income  of  four  hundred  a  year  mean  ?  Why 
have  you  never  told  me  about  it,  dear  Swithin  ?  Or 
does  it  not  refer  to  you  ?  " 

He  looked  at  the  note,  flushed  slightly,  and  was 
absoutely  unable  to  begin  his  reply  at  once.  "  I  did 
not  mean  you  to  see  that,  Viviette,"  he  murmured. 

"Why  not?" 

"  I  thought  you  had  better  not,  as  it  does  not  con- 
cern me  further,  now.  The  solicitors  are  laboring 
under  a  mistake  in  supposing  that  it  does.  I  have  to 
write  at  once  and  inform  them  that  the  annuity  is  not 
mine  to  receive." 

"  What  a  strange  mystery  in  your  life  !"  she  said, 
forcing  a  perplexed  smile.  "  Something  to  balance 
the  tragedy  in  mine.  I  am  absolutely  in  the  dark  as 
to  your  past  history,  it  seems.  And  yet  I  had  thought 
you  told  me  everything." 

"  I  could  not  tell  you  that, Viviette,  because  it  would 


TWO  OiV  A    TOWER.  223 

have  endangered  our  relations — though  not  in  the  way 
you  may  suppose.  You  would  have  reproved  me — you, 
who  are  so  generous  and  noble,  would  have  forbidden 
me  to  do  what  I  did  ;  and  I  was  determined  not  to  be 
forbidden." 

'•To  do  what?" 

"  To  marry  you." 

"  Why  should  I  have  forbidden  ?" 

"  Must  I  tell— what  I  would  not  ?"  he  said,  placing 
his  hands  upon  her  shoulders,  and  looking  sadly  at 
her.  "  Well,  perhaps,  since  it  has  come  to  this,  you 
ought  to  know,  since  it  can  make  no  possible  difference 
in  my  intentions  now.  We  are  one  forever,  legal 
blunders  notwithstanding — for  happily  they  are  quickly 
reparable — and  this  question  of  a  devise  from  my 
Uncle  Jocelyn  concerned  me  only  when  I  was  a  single 
man." 

Thereupon,  with  obviously  no  consideration  of  the 
possibilities  that  were  reopened  by  the  nullity  of  their 
marriage  contract,  he  related  in  detail,  and  not  with- 
out misgiving  for  having  concealed  them  so  long,  the 
events  that  had  occurred  on  the  morning  of  their  wed- 
ding-day ;  how  he  had  met  the  postman  on  the  way  to 
Warbor'ne,  after  dressing  in  the  cabin,  and  how  he  had 
received  from  him  the  letter  from  his  dead  uncle 
through  his  family  lawyers,  informing  him  of  the  be- 
quest," and  of  the  important  condition  attached— that 
he  should  remain  unmarried  until  his  tive-and-twen- 
tieth  year  ;  how,  in  comparison  with  the  possession  of 
her  dear  self,  he  had  reckoned  the  income  as  nought, 
abandoned  all  idea  of  it  there  and  then,  and  had  come 
on  to  the  wedding  as  if  nothing  had  happened  to  in- 
terrupt for  a  moment  tlic  working  out  of  their  plan  ; 
how  he  had  scarcely  thought  with  any  closeness  of  the 
circumstances  of  the  case  since,  until  reminded  of  them 
by  this  note  she  had  seen,  and  a  previous  one  of  the 
sort,  received  from  the  same  solicitors. 

"  Oh,  Swithin,  Swithin  !  "  she  cried,  bursting  into 
tears  as  she  realized  it  all,  and  sinking  on  the  observ- 
ing-chair.  "  I  have  ruined  you — yes,  I  have  ruined 
you  !  " 


224  Tiro  OA' J    TOWER. 

The  young  man  was  dismayed  by  her  grief,  and  en- 
deavored to  soothe  her  ;  but  she  seemed  shaken  by  a 
poignant  remorse,  which  would  not  be  comforted. 

"And  now,"  she  continued,  as  soon  as  she  could 
speak,  "  when  you  are  once  more  free,  and  in  a  position 
— actually  in  a  position  to  claim  the  annuity  that 
would  be  the  making  of  you,  I  am  compelled  to  come  to 
you,  and  beseech  you  to  undo  yourself  again,  merely 
to  save  me  !  " 

"  Not  to  save  you,  Viviette,  but  to  bless  me.  You 
do  not  ask  me  to  re-marry  ;  it  is  not  a  question  of  al- 
teratives at  all, — it  is  my  straight  course.  I  do  not 
dream  of  doing  otherwise.  I  should  be  wretched  if  you 
thought  for  one  moment  I  could  entertain  the  idea  of 
doing  otherwise." 

But  the  more  he  said,  the  worse  he  made  the  mat- 
ter. It  was  a  state  of  affairs  that  would  not  bear  dis- 
cussion at  all,  and  the  unsophisticated  view  he  took  of 
his  course  seemed  to  increase  her  responsibility. 

"Why  did  your  uncle  attach  such  a  cruel  condition 
to  his  bounty!"  she  cried,  bitterly.  "Oh,  he  little 
thinks  how  hard  he  hits  me  from  the  grave, — me,  who 
have  never  done  him  wrong  ;  and  you  too.  Swithin, 
are  you  sure  that  he  makes  that  condition  indispensa- 
ble ?  Perhaps  he  meant  that  you  should  not  marry 
beneath  you  ;  perhaps  he  did  not  mean  in  such  a  case 
as  your  marrying  (forgive  me  for  saying  it)  a  little 
above  you." 

"There  is  no  doubt  that  he  did  not  contemplate  a 
case  which  has  led  to  such  happiness  as  this  has  done," 
the  youth  murmured  with  hesitation  ;  for  though  he 
scarcely  remembered  a  word  of  his  uncle's  letter  of 
advice,  he  had  a  dim  apprehension  that  it  was  couch- 
ed in  terms  alluding  specially  to  Lady  Constantine. 

"Are  you  sure  that  you  cannot  retain  the  money 
and  be  my  lawful  husband  too  ?"  she  asked,  piteously. 
"  Oh,  what  a  wrong  I  am  doing  you  !  I  did  not  dream 
that  it  could  be  as  bad  as  this.  I  knew  I  was  wasting 
your  time  by  letting  you  love  me,  and  hampering  your 
projects  ;  but  I  thought  there  were  compensating  ad- 
vantages.    This  wreck  of  your  future  by  me  I  did  not 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  225 

contemplate.  You  are  sure  there  is  no  escape  ?  Have 
you  this  letter  with  the  conditions,  or  the  will  ?  Let 
me  see  the  letter  in  which  he  expresses  his  wishes." 

"  I  assure  you  it  is  all  as  I  say,"  he  pensively  re- 
turned. 

"  But  how  does  he  put  it  ?  How  does  he  justify 
himself  in  making  such  a  harsh  restriction?  Do  let 
me  see  the  letter,  Swithin.  I  shall  think  it  a  want  of 
confidence  if  you  do  not.  I  may  discover  some  way 
out  of  the  difficulty  if  you  let  me  look  at  the  papers. 
Eccentric  vvils  can  be  evaded  in  all  sorts  of  ways." 

Still  he  hesitated.  "  I  would  rather  you  did  not  see 
these  papers,"  he  said. 

But  she  persisted,  as  only  a  fond  woman  can.  Her 
knowledge  that  she,  who,  as  a  woman  many  years  his 
senior,  should  have  shown  her  love  for  him  by  guiding 
him  straight  into  the  paths  he  aimed  at,  had  (though 
in  some  respects  unwittingly)  blocked  his  attempted 
career  for  her  own  happiness,  made  her  more  intent 
than  ever  to  find  out  a  device  by  which  she  might  re- 
tain him,  while  he  also  retained  the  life-interest  under 
his  uncle's  will.  Her  entreaties  were  at  length  too 
potent  for  his  resistance  ;  and,  accompanying  her  down- 
stairs to  the  cabin,  he  opened  the  desk  from  which 
the  ether  papers  had  been  taken,  and  against  his  bet- 
ter judgment,  handed  her  the  ominous  communication 
of  Jocelyn  St.  Cleeve,  which  lay  in  the  envelope  just 
as  it  had  been  received,  three  quarters  of  a  year 
earlier. 

"  Don't  read  it  now,"  he  said.  "  Don't  spoil  our 
meeting  by  entering  into  a  subject  which  is  virtually 
past  and  done  with.  Take  it  with  you,  and  look  it 
over  at  your  leisure, — but  merely  as  an  old  curiosity, 
remember,  and  not  as  a  still  possibly  operative  docu- 
ment. I  have  almost  forgotten  what  the  contents  are, 
beyond  the  general  advice  and  stipulation  that  I  was 
to  remain  a  bachelor." 

"At  any  rate,"  she  rejoined,  "do  not  reply  to  the 
note  I  have  seen  from  the  solicitors  till  1  have  read 
this  also." 

He  promised.    "  But  now  about  our  public  wedding," 

15 


226  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

he  said!  "  Like  certain  royal  personages,  we  have  had 
the  religious  rite  ;  and  now  comes  the  civil  contract. 
Will  you  fix  the  day  ?  When  is  it  to  be  ?  And  shall  it 
take  place  at  a  register's  office,  since  there  is  no  neces- 
sitv  for  having  the  sacred  part  over  again  ?" 

'''  I'll  think,"  replied  she.     "  I'll  think  it  over." 

"  And  let  me  know  as  soon  as  you  can,  how  you  de- 
cide to  proceed." 

"  I  will  write  to-morrow,  or  come.  I  do  not  know 
what  to  say  now.  I  cannot  forget  how  I  am  wronging 
you.     This  is  almost  more  than  I  can  bear." 

To  divert  her  mind  he  began  talking  about  Green- 
wich Observatory,  and  the  great  instruments  therein, 
and  how  he  had  been  received  by  the  astronomers,  and 
the  details  of  the  expedition  to  observe  the  transit  of 
Venus,  together  with  many  other  subjects  of  the  sort, 
to  which  she  had  not  power  to  lend  her  attention. 

"  I  must  reach  home  before  the  people  are  out  of 
church,"  she  at  length  said,  wearily.  "  I  wish  nobody 
to  know  I  have  been  out  this  morning."  And  for- 
bidding Swithin  to  cross  into  the  open  in  her  company, 
she  left  him  on  the  edge  of  the  isolated  plantation, 
which  had  latterly  known  her  tread  so  well. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

T  ADY  CONSTANTINE  crossed  the  field  and  the 
park  beyond,  and  found  on  passing  the  church 
that  the  congregation  was  still  within.  There  was  no 
hurry  for  getting  indoors,  the  open  windows  enabling 
her  to  hear  that  Mr.  Torkingham  had  only  just  given 
out  his  text.  So  instead  of  entering  the  house,  she 
went  through  the  garden  door  to  the  old  bowling- 
green,  and  sat  down  in  the  arbor  that  Louis  had  oc- 
cupied when  he  overheard  the  interview  between 
Swithin  and  the  bishop.  Not  until  then  did  she  find 
courage  to  draw  out  the  letter  and  papers  relating  to 
the  bequest,  which  Swithin  in  a  critical  moment  had 
handed  to  her. 


TIVO  ON  A    TOWER.  227 

Had  he  been  ever  so  little  older  he  would  not  have 
placed  that  unconsidered  confidence  in  her  which  had 
led  him  to  give  way  to  her  curiosity.  But  the  im- 
mense influence  over  him  which  seven  or  eight  outnum- 
bering years  lent  her  was  again  increased  by  her  wider 
experiences,  and  he  had  yielded  the  point,  as  he  yield- 
ed all  social  points  ;  while  the  same  juniority  freed 
him  from  much  consciousness  that  it  was  his  duty  to 
protect  her  even  from  herself. 

The  preamble  of  Dr.  St.  Cleve's  letter — in  which  he 
referred  to  the  young  man's  promise  as  an  astronomer 
— disturbed  her  not  at  all;  indeed,  somewhat  prepos- 
sessed her  in  favor  of  the  old  gentleman  who  had 
written  it.  The  first  item  of  what  he  called  "  unfa- 
vorable news,"  namely,  the  allusion  to  the  inadequacy 
of  Swithin's  income  to  the  wants  of  a  scientific  man, 
whose  lines  of  work  were  not  calculated  to  produce 
pecuniary  emoluments  for  many  years,  deepened  the 
cast  of  her  face  to  concern.  She  reached  the  second 
item  of  the  so-called  unfavorable  news;  and  her  face 
flushed  as  she  read  how  the  doctor  had  learned  "  that 
there  was  something  in  your  path  worse  than  narrow 
means,  and  that  that  something  was  a  woman." 

"To  save  you,  if  possible,  from  ruin  on  these  heads," 
she  read  on,  "  I  take  the  preventive  measures  detailed 
below."  And  then  followed  the  announcement  of  the 
four  hundred  a  year  settled  on  the  youth  for  life,  on 
the  single  condition  that  he  remained  unmarried  till 
the  age  of  twenty-five,  just  as  Swithin  had  explained 
to  her.  She  next  learned  that  the  bequest  was  for  a 
definite  object:  that  he  might  have  resources  sufiicient 
to  enable  him  to  travel  in  an  inexpensive  way,  and  be- 
gin a  study  of  the  Southern  constellations,  which,  ac- 
cording to  the  shrewd  old  man's  judgment,  were  a 
mine  not  so  thoroughly  worked  as  the  Northern,  and 
therefore  to  be  recommended.  This  was  followed 
by  some  sentences  which  hit  her  in  the  face  like  a 
switch: 

"  The  only  other  preventive  step  in  my  power  is  that 
of  exhortation.  .  .  .  Swithin  St.  Cleeve,  don't  make  a 
fool  of  yourself,  as  your  father  did.     If  your  studies 


228  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

are  to  be  worth  anything,  believe  me,  they  must  be 
carried  on  without  the  help  of  a  woman.  Avoid  her, 
and  every  one  of  her  sex,  if  you  mean  to  achieve  any 
worthy  thing.  Eschew  all  of  that  sort  for  many  a 
year  yet.  Moreover,  I  say,  the  lady  of  your  acquaint- 
ance avoid  in  particular.  .  .  .  She  has,  in  addition  to 
her  original  disqualification  as  a  companion  for  you 
(that  is,  that  of  sex),  these  two  serious  drawbacks:  she 

is  much  older  than  yourself " 

Lady  Constantine's  indignant  flush  forsook  her,  and 
pale  despair  succeeded  in  its  stead.  Alas,  it  was  true; 
handsome  and  in  her  prime  she  might  be,  but  she  was 
too  old  for  Swithin! 

" — and  she  is  so  impoverished.  .  .  .  Beyond  this, 
frankly,  I  don't  think  well  of  her.  I  don't  think  well 
of  any  woman  who  dotes  upon  a  younger  man  than 
herself.  .  .  .  To  care  to  be  the  first  fancy  of  a  young 
fellow  like  you  shows  no  great  common  sense  in  her. 
If  she  were  worth  her  salt  she  would  have  too  much 
pride  to  be  intimate  with  a  youth  in  your  unassured 
position,  to  say  no  worse."  (Viviette's  face,  by  this 
time,  tingled  hot  again.)  "She  is  old  enough  to  know 
that  a  liaison  with  her  may,  and  almost  certainly  would, 
be  your  ruin;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  that  a  marriage 
would  be  preposterous — unless  she  is  a  complete  fool, 
and  in  that  case  there  is  even  more  reason  for  avoiding 
her  than  if  she  were  in  her  few  senses. 

"  A  woman  of  honorable  feeling,  nephew,  would  be 
careful  to  do  nothing  to  hinder  you  in  your  career,  as 
this  putting  of  herself  in  your  way  most  certainly  will. 
Yet  I  hear  that  she  professes  a  great  anxiety  on  this 
same  future  of  yours  as  a  physicist.  The  best  way  in 
which  she  can  show  the  reality  of  her  anxiety  is  by 
lerving  you  to  yourself." 

Leaving  him  to  himself  !  She  paled  again,  as  if 
chilled  by  a  conviction  that  in  this  the  old  man  was 
right. 

..."  She'll  blab  your  most  secret  plans  and  theories 
to  every  one  of  her  acquaintance,  and  make  them  ap- 
pear ridiculous  by  announcing  them   before  they  are 


70  ON  A   TOWER.  229 

matured.  If  you  attempt  to  study  with  a  woman, 
you'll  be  ruled  by  her  to  entertain  fancies  instead  of 
theories,  air-castles  instead  of  intentions,  qualms  in- 
stead of  opinions,  sickly  prepossessions  instead  of  rea- 
soned conclusions.  .  .  . 

"A  woman  waking  your  passions  just  at  a  moment 
when  you  are  endeavvoring  to  shine  intellectually  is 
like  stirring  up  the  mud  at  the  bottom  of  a  clear 
brook.  All  yc>ur  brightness  and  sparkle  are  taken 
away;  you  become  moping  and  thick-headed;  obstruc- 
tions that  before  only  brought  out  your  brilliancies 
now  disfigure  your  each  dull  attempt  to  surmount 
them." 

Thus  much  the  letter;  and  it  was  enough  for  her, 
Indeed.  The  flushes  of  indignation  which  had  passed 
over  her  from  time  to  time,  as  she  gathered  this  man's 
opinion  of  herself,  combined  with  flushes  of  grief  and 
shame  when  she  considered  that  Swithin,  her  dear 
Swithin,  was  perfectly  acquainted  with  this  cynical 
view  of  her  nature;  that,  reject  it  as  he  might,  and  as 
he  unquestionably  did,  such  thoughts  of  her  had  been 
implanted  in  him,  and  lay  in  him;  stifled  as  they  were, 
they  lay  in  liim  like  seeds  too  deep  for  germination, 
which  accident  might  some  day  bring  near  the  sur- 
face and  aerate  into  life.  The  humility  of  such  a  pos- 
sibility was  almost  too  much  to  endure;  the  mortifi- 
cation— she  had  known  nothing  like  it  till  now.  But 
this  was  not  all.  Those  tingling  emotions  were  suc- 
ceeded by  feelings  in  comparison  with  which  resent- 
ment and  mortification  were  happy  moods — a  miser- 
able conviction  that  this  old  man,  who  spoke  from  the 
grave,  was  not  altogether  wrong  in  his  speaking;  that 
he  was  only  half  wrong;  that  he  was,  perhaps,  virtu- 
ally right.  Only  those  persons  whom  nature  has  un- 
happily endowed  with  tliat  appreciativcncss  of  others' 
positions  which  empowers  them  to  observe  themselves 
from  the  outside  can  understand  the  smart  of  such 
convictions  against  self — the  wish  for  annihilation  that 
is  engendered  in  the  moment  of  despair  at  feeling  that 
at  length  we,  our  own  last,  firmest  friend,  cease  to  be- 
lieve in  our  own  cause. 


230  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

Viviette  could  hear  the  people  coming  out  of  church 
on  the  other  side  of  the  garden  wall;  their  footsteps 
and  their  cheerful  voices  died  away.  The  bell  rang 
for  lunch,  and  she  went  in.  But  her  life  during  that 
morning  and  afternoon  was  wholly  introspective. 
Knowing  the  whole  circumstances  of  his  situation  as 
she  knew  them  now,  as  she  had  never  before  known 
them,  ought  she  to  make  herself  the  legal  wife  of 
Swithin  St.  Cleeve,  and  so  secure  her  own  honor,  at 
any  price  to  him  ?  Such  was  the  formidable  question 
which  Lady  Constantine  propounded  to  her  startled 
understanding.  As  a  suggestively  honest  woman 
alone,  beginning  her  charity  at  home,  there  was  no 
doubt  that  she  ought.  Save  thyself  was  sound  Old 
Testament  doctrine,  and  not  altogether  discounted  in 
the  New.  But  was  there  a  line  of  conduct  which  tran- 
scended mere  self-preservation,  and  would  it  not  be  an 
excellent  thing  to  put  into  practice  now. 

That  she  had  wronged  St.  Cleeve  by  marrying  him, 
that  she  would  wrong  him  mfinitely  more  by  complet- 
ing the  marriage,  there  was — in  her  opinion — no 
doubt.  She  in  her  experience  had  sought  out  him  in 
his  inexperience,  and  had  led  him  like  a  child.  She 
.remembered,  as  if  it  had  been  her  fault,  though  it  was 
in  fact  only  her  misfortune,  that  she  had  been  the  one 
to  go  for  the  license,  and  take  up  her  residence  in  the 
parish  in  which  they  were  wedded.  He  was  now  just 
one  and  twenty.  Without  her,  he  had  all  the  world 
before  him,  four  hundred  a  year,  and  leave  to  cut  as 
straight  a  road  to  fame  as  he  should  choose.  With 
her,  this  story  was  negatived.  Beyond  leading  him  to 
w^aste  the  active  spring-time  of  his  life  in  idle  adora- 
tion of  her  as  his  sweetheart,  and  depriving  him  of 
his  inestimable  independency  by  allowing  him  to  make 
her  his  wife,  she  had  indirectly  been  the  means  of 
ruining  him  in  the  good  opinion  of  Bishop  Helmsdale 
— a  man  who  was  once  his  father's  acauaintance,  and 
who  had  been  strongly  disposed  to  become  the  young- 
er man's  friend.  Encouragement  and  aid  from  the 
bishop  would  have  been  of  no  mean  value  to  a  youth 
without  backers  of  any  kind. 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  231 

On  the  other  hand,  what  had  he  gained  by  his  alli- 
ance with  her  ?  Well,  an  equatorial  telescope, — that 
was  about  all  :  while  to  set  against  this  there  was  the 
disinclination  to  adventure  further  which  her  constant 
presence  had  imparted  ;  the  yoke  with  a  woman  whose 
disparity  of  years,  though  immaterial  just  now,  would 
operate  in  the  future  as  a  wet  blanket  upon  his  social 
ambitions  ;  that  content  with  life  as  it  was  which  she 
had  noticed  more  than  once  in  him  latterly,  and  which 
was  imperiling  his  scientific  spirit  by  abstracting  his 
zest  for  progress. 

It  was  impossible,  in  short,  to  blind  herself  to  the 
inference  that  marriage  with  her  had  not  benefited 
him,  as  a  man  who — in  her  fond  belief — had  a  great 
work  to  do,  to  the  extent  they  both  had  expected. 
Matters  might  improve  in  the  future  ;  but  to  take  upon 
herself  the  whole  liability  of  Swithin's  life,  as  she 
would  do  by  causing  him  to  sacrifice  the  help  his 
uncle  had  offered,  was  a  fearful  responsibility.  How 
could  she,  an  unendowed  woman,  replace  such  assist- 
ance ?  His  recent  visit  to  Greenwich,  which  had  mo- 
mentarily revived  the  zest  for  his  pursuits  that  was 
now  less  constant  than  heretofore,  should  by  rights  be 
supplemented  by  other  such  expeditions.  It  would  be 
true  benevolence  not  to  deprit^e  him  of  means  to  con- 
tinue them,  and  so  to  keep  his  ardor  alive,  regardless 
of  the  cost  to  herself. 

It  could  be  done.  B3'  the  extraordinary  favor  of  a 
unique  accident,  she  had  now  an  opportunity  of  re- 
deeming Swithin's  seriously  compromised  future,  and 
restoring  him  to  a  state  no  worse  than  his  first.  His 
annuity  could  be  enjoyed  by  him,  his  travels  under- 
taken, his  studies  pursued,  his  high  vocation  initiated, 
by  one  little  sacrifice, — that  of  herself.  She  only  had 
to  refuse  to  realize  their  marriage  by  repeating  it,  to 
part  from  him  forever,  and  all  would  be  well  with  him 
thenceforward.  The  pain  to  him  would  after  all  be 
but  slight,  whatever  it  might  be  to  his  wretched  Vivi- 
ette. 

Such  passion  as  he  had  shown  for  her,  boyish,  and 
never,  perhaps,    very  strong,    had,    in    the    inevitable 


232  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

course  of  marriage  on  such  terms,  been  softened 
down  to  mild  affection.  She  had  seen  only  too  clearly 
this  morning  that,  owing  to  his  Greenwich  visit,  she 
had  again  sunk  to  a  second  place  in  his  heart,  if  she 
had  ever  occupied  a  higher  :  his  darling  science  re- 
asserting its  right  to  the  first.  It  was  the  ordinary 
fate  of  scientific  men's  wives  ;  she  should  have  thought 
of  it  before.  Was  there  not,  then,  something  reaction- 
ary and  selfish  in  her  persisting  to  clinch  a  union  for 
the  assurance  of  her  individual  composure,  now  that 
her  conception  of  that  course  as  an  advantage  to  him 
had  been  proved  wildly  erroneous  ? 

The  horror  of  retaining  him  at  her  side  lay  not  only 
in  the  fact,  itself  of  injury  to  him,  but  in  the  likelihood 
of  his  living  to  see  it  as  such,  and  reproaching  her  for 
selfishness  for  not  letting  him  go,  in  this  unprecedented 
opportunity  for  correcting  a  move  proved  to  be  false. 
He  wished  to  examine  the  southern  heavens, — perhaps 
his  uncle's  letter  was  the  father  of  the  wish, — and  there 
was  no  telling  what  good  might  not  result  to  mankind 
at  large  from  his  exploits  there.  Why  should  she,  to 
save  her  narrow  honor,  waste  the  wide  promise  of  his 
ability  ?  True,  an  objector  might  have  urged,  on  her 
side,  that  her  dear  Swithin's  wondrous  works  among 
the  children  of  men  existed  as  yet  only  in  her  imagi- 
nation; while  the  present  quandary  was  an  unquestion- 
able fact.  But  Lady  Constantine  would  have  been 
the  first  to  deprecate  the  ungenerousness  of  such  a 
skeptical  reasoner. 

That  in  immolating  herself  by  refusing  him,  and 
leaving  him  free  to  work  wonders  for  the  good  of  his 
fellow-creatures,  she  would  in  all  probability  add  to 
the  sum  of  human  felicity  consoled  her  by  its  breath 
as  an  idea,  even  while  it  tortured  her  by  making  her- 
self the  scape-goat  or  single  unit  on  which  the  evil 
would  fall.  Ought  a  possibly  large  number,  Swithin 
included,  to  remain  unbenefited  because  the  one  indi- 
vidual to  whom  his  release  would  be  an  injury  chanced 
to  be  herself?  Love  between  man  and  woman,  which 
in  Homer,  Moses,  and  other  early  exhibitors  of  life  is 
mere  desire,  had  for  centuries  past  so  far  broadened 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  233 

as  to  include  sympathy  and  friendship  ;  surely,  it 
should,  in  this  advanced  stage  of  the  world,  include 
benevolence  also.  If  so,  it  was  her  duty  to  set  her 
young  man  free. 

Thus  she  labored,  with  a  generosity  more  worthy 
even  than  its  object,  to  sink  her  love  for  her  own  de- 
corum in  devotion  to  the  world  in  general  and  Swithin 
in  particular.  To  council  her  activities  by  her  under- 
standing, rather  than  by  her  emotions,  as  usual,  was 
hard  work  for  a  tender  woman  ;  but  she  strove  hard, 
and  made  advance.  The  self-centered  attitude  natural 
to  one  in  her  situation  was  becoming  displaced  by  the 
sympathetic  attitude,  which,' though  it  had  to  be  arti- 
ficially fostered  at  first,  gave  her,  by  degrees,  a  certain 
sweet  sense  that  she  was  rising  above  self-love.  That 
maternal  element  which  had  from  time  to  time  evinced 
itself  in  her  affection  for  the  youth,  and  was  imparted 
by  her  superior  ripeness  in  experience  and  years,  ap- 
peared now  again  as  she  drew  nearer  the  resolve  not 
to  secure  propriety  in  her  own  social  condition  at  the 
expense  of  this  youth's  earthly  utility. 

Unexpectedly  grand  fruits  are  sometimes  born  of 
mean  roots.  The  illiberal  letter  of  Swithin's  uncle 
was  suggesting  to  Lady  Constantine  a  more  compre- 
hensive moral! t}'  than  the  highest  efforts  of  direct  in- 
structors had  ever  been  able  to  instil.  To  love  him 
so  far  better  tlian  herself  as  this  was  to  surpass  the 
love  of  women  as  conventionally  understood,  and  as 
mostly  existing. 

Before,  however,  clinching  her  decision  by  any  def- 
inite step,  she  worried  her  little  brain  by  devising 
everv  kind  of  ingenious  scheme,  in  the  hope  of  lighting 
on  one  tliat  might  show  her  how  that  decision  could 
be  avoided,  with  the  same  good  result,  But  to  secure 
for  him  the  advantages  offered,  and  to  retain  him  like- 
wise,— reflection  only  showed  it  to  be  impossible  ! 
Yet  to  let  him  go  forever  was  more  than  she  could  en- 
dure, and  at  length  she  jumped  at  an  idea  which  prom- 
ised some  sort  of  improvement  on  that  design.  She 
would  propose  that  reunion  should  not  be  entirely 
abandoned,  but  simply  postponed, — namely,  till  after 


234  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

his  twenty-fifth  birth-day,  when  he  might  be  her  hus« 
band  without,  at  any  rate,  the  loss  to  him  of  the  in- 
come. By  this  time  he  would  approximate  to  a  man's 
full  judgment,  and  that  painful  aspect  of  her  as  one 
who  deluded  his  raw  immaturity  would  have  passed 
forever. 

The  plan  somewhat  appeased  her  disquieted  honor. 
To  let  a  marriage  sink  into  abeyance  for  four  or  five 
years  was  not  to  nullify  it  ;  and  though  she  would 
leave  it  to  him  to  move  its  substantiation  at  the  end  of 
that  time,  without  present  stipulations,  she  had  not 
much  doubt  upon  the  issue. 

The  clock  struck  five.  This  silent  mental  debate 
had  occupied  her  whole  afternoon.  Perhaps  it  would 
not  have  ended  now,  but  for  an  unexpected  incident, 
— the  entry  of  her  brother  Louis.  He  came  into  the 
room  where  she  was  sitting,  or  rather  writing  ;  and 
after  a  few  words  to  explain  how  he  had  got  there, 
and  about  the  mistake  in  the  date  of  Sir  Blount's 
death,  he  walked  up  close  to  her.  His  next  remarks 
were  apologetic  in  form,  but  in  essence  they  were 
bitterness  itself. 

"  Viviette,"  he  said,  "  I  am  sorry  for  my  hasty  words 
♦o  you  when  I  last  left  this  house.  I  readily  withdraw 
them.  My  suspicions  took  a  wrong  direction.  I  think 
now  that  I  know  the  truth!  You  have  been  even  mad- 
der than  I  supposed!" 

"  In  what  way  ?"  she  asked,  distantly. 

"  I  had  lately  thought  that  unhappy  young  man  was 
only  your  too-favored  lover." 

"You  thought  wrong;  he  is  not." 

"  He  is  not — I  believe  you — for  he  is  more.  I  now 
am  persuaded  that  he  is  your  lawful  husband.  Can 
you  deny  it .''" 

"I  can." 

"  On  your  sacred  word  ?" 

"  On  my  sacred  word,  he  is  not  that,  either." 
"Thank  Heaven  for  that  assurance!"  said  Louis,  ex- 
haling a  breath  of  relief.     "  I  was  not  so  positive  as  I 
pretended  to  be,  but  I   wanted  to  know  the  truth  of 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  235 

this  mystery.  Since  you  are  not  fettered  to  him  in 
that  way,  I  care  nothing." 

Louis  turned  away,  and  that  afforded  her  an  oppor- 
tunity for  leaving  the  room.  These  few  words  were 
the  last  grains  that  had  turned  the  balance,  and  set- 
tled her  doom.  She  would  let  Swithin  go.  All  the 
voices  in  her  world  had  seemed  to  clamor  for  that 
consummation.  The  morning's  mortification,  the  af- 
ternoon's benevolence,  and  the  evening's  instincts  of 
evasion  had  combined  to  carry  the  point. 

Accordingly,  she  sat  down  and  wrote  to  Swithin  a 
summary  of  the  thoughts  above  detailed.  "  We 
shall  separate,"  she  concluded;  "you  to  obey  your 
uncle's  orders  and  explore  the  southern  skies;  I  to  wait 
as  one  who  can  implicitly  trust  you.  Do  not  see  me 
again  till  the  years  have  expired.  You  will  find  me 
still  the  same.  I  am  your  wife  through  all  time.  The 
letter  of  the  law  is  not  needed  to  reassert  it  at 
present,  while  the  absence  of  the  letter  secures  your 
fortune." 

Nothing  can  express  what  it  cost  Lady  Constantine 
to  marshal  her  arguments;  but  she  did  it,  and  van- 
quished self-comfort  by  a  sense  of  the  general  expedi- 
ency. It  may  unhesitatingly  be  affirmed  that  the  only 
ignoble  reason  which  might  have  dictated  such  a  step 
was  non-existent;  that  is  to  sa}^  a  serious  decline  in 
her  affection.  Tenderly  she  had  loved  the  youth 
at  first,  and  tenderly  she  loved  him  now,  as  time  and 
her  conduct  after  proved. 

Women  the  most  delicate  get  used  to  strange  moral 
situations.  Eve  probably  regained  her  normal  sweet 
composure  about  a  week  after  the  Fall.  On  first 
learning  of  her  anomalous  position.  Lady  Constan- 
tine's  cheek  had  blushed  hot,  and  her  instincts  prompt- 
ed her  to  legalize  her  marriage  without  a  moment's  de- 
lay Heaven  and  earth  were  to  be  moved  at  once  to 
effect  it.  Day  after  day  had  passed;  her  union  had 
remained  unsecured,  and  the  idea  of  its  nullity  had 
gradually  ceased  to  be  strange  to  her,  till  it  became  o( 
little  account  beside  her  generous  resolve  for  the  young 
man's  sake. 


236  TIVO  ON  A   TO  WER. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI. 


T 


HE  immediate  effect  upon  St.  Cleeve  of  the  re- 
ceipt of  her  well-reasoned  argument  for  retroces- 
sion was,  naturally,  a  bitter  attack  upon  himself  for 
having  been  guilty  of  such  cruel  carelessness  as  to 
leave  in  her  way  the  lawyer's  letter  that  had  first  made 
her  aware  of  his  uncle's  provision  for  him.  Im- 
mature as  he  was,  he  could  realize  Viviette's  position 
sufficiently  well  to  perceive  what  the  poor  lady  must 
suffer  at  having  suddenly  thrust  upon  her  the  respon- 
sibility of  repairing  her  own  situation  as  a  wife  by 
ruining  his  as  a  legatee.  True,  it  was  by  the  purest 
inadvertance  that  his  pending  sacrifice  of  means  had 
been  discovered  ;  but  he  should  have  taken  special 
pains  to  render  such  a  contretemps  impossible.  If,  on 
the  first  occasion  when  a  revelation  might  have  been 
made  with  impunity,  he  would  not  put  it  in  the  power 
of  her  good  nature  to  relieve  his  position  by  refusing 
him,  he  should  have  shown  double  care  not  to  do  so 
now,  when  she  could  not  exercise  that  benevolence 
without  the  loss  of  honor.  With  a  young  man's  inat- 
tention to  issues,  he  had  not  considered  how  sharp  her 
feelings  as  a  woman  must  be  in  this  contingency.  It 
had  seemed  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  to  remedy 
the  defect  in  their  marriage,  and  that  therefore  there 
was  nothing  to  be  anxious  about.  And  in  his  inno- 
cence of  any  thought  of  securing  the  beq,uest,  by 
taking  advantage  of  the  loop-hole  in  his  matrimonial 
bond,  he  undervalued  the  importance  of  concealing  the 
existence  of  that  bequest. 

The  looming  fear  of  unhappiness  between  them  re- 
vived in  Swithin  the  warmest  emotions  of  their  earlier 
acquaintance.  Almost  before  the  sun  had  he  hastened 
to  Welland  House  in  search  of  her.     The  air  was  dis- 


TIVO  OJV  A    TOWER,  237 

mrbed  by  a  stiff  summer  wind,  productive  of  windfalls 
and  premature  descents  of  leafage.  It  was  an  hour 
when  unripe  apples  shower  down  in  orchards,  and  un- 
browned  chestnuts  descend  in  their  husks  upon  the 
park  glades.  There  was  no  help  for  it  this  afternoon 
but  to  call  u'pon  her  in  a  direct  manner,  regardless  of 
suspicion.  He  was  thunderstruck  when,  while  waiting 
in  the  full  expectation  of  being  admitted  to  her  pres- 
ence, the  answer  was  brought  back  to  him  that  she 
was  engaged. 

This  had  never  happened  before  in  the  whole  course 
of  their  acquaintance.  But  he  knew  what  it  meant, 
and  turned  away  with  a  vague  disquietude.  He  did 
not  know  that  Lady  Constantine  was  just  above  his 
head,  listening  to  his  movements  with  the  liveliest 
emotions,  and,  while  praying  for  him  to  go,  longing  for 
him  to  insist  on  seeing  her  and  spoil  all.  But  the 
faintest  symptom  being  always  suflicient  to  convince 
him  of  having  blundered,  he  unwittingly  took  her  at 
her  word,  and  went  rapidly  away. 

However,  he  called  again  the  next  day;  and  she, 
having  gained  strength  by  one  victory  over  herself, 
was  enabled  to  repeat  her  refusal  with  greater  ease. 
Knowing  this  to  be  the  only  course  by  which  her  point 
could  be  maintained,  she  clung  to  it  with  strenuous 
and  religious  pertinacity. 

Thus  immured  and  self-controlling  she  passed  a 
week.  Her  brother,  though  he  did  not  live  in  the 
house  (preferring  the  nearest  watering  place  at  this 
time  of  the  year),  was  continually  coming  there;  and 
one  day  he  happened  to  be  present  when  she  refused 
Swithin  for  the  third  time.  Louis,  who  did  not  ob- 
serve the  tears  in  her  eyes,  was  astonished  and  delight- 
ed; she  was  coming  to  her  senses  at  last.  Believing 
now  that  there  had  been  nothing  more  between  them 
than  a  too  plainly  shown  partiality  on  her  part,  he  ex- 
pressed his  commendation  of  her  conduct  to  her  face. 
At  this,  instead  of  owning  to  its  advantage,  also,  hel 
tears  burst  forth  outright. 

Not  knowing  what  to  make  of  this,  Louis  said: 
"  Well,  I  am  simply  upholding  you  in  your  course." 


238  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

"Yes — yes — I  know  it!"  she  cried.  "And  it  is  my 
deliberately  chosen  course.  I  wish  he — Swithin  St. 
Cleeve — would  go  on  his  travels — at  once,  and  leave 
the  place.  Four  hundred  a  year  has  been  left  to  him 
for  travel  and  study  of  the  Southern  constellations; 
and  I  wish  he  would  use  it.  You  might  represent  the 
advantage  to  him  of  the  course,  if  you  cared  to." 

Louis  thought  he  could  do  no  better  than  let  Swith- 
in know  this  as  soon  as  possible.  Accordingly,  when 
St.  Cleeve  was  writing  in  the  hut,  the  next  day,  he 
heard  the  crackle  of  footsteps  over  the  fir  spikelets 
outside,  and  jumped  up,  supposing  them  to  be  hers; 
but  to  his  disappointment  it  was  her  brother  who  ap- 
peared at  the  door. 

"  Excuse  my  invading  the  hermitage,  St.  Cleeve," 
he  said,  in  his  careless  way.  "  But  I  have  heard  from 
my  sister  of  your  good  fortune." 

"  My  good  fortune?" 

"Yes,  in  having  an  opportunity  for  roving;  and  with 
a  traveler's  conceit  I  couldn't  help  coming  to  give 
you  the  benefit  of  my  experience.  When  do  you 
start?" 

"  I  have  not — formed  any  plan  as  yet.  Indeed,  I 
had  not  quite  been  thinking  of  going " 

Louis  stared.  "  Not  going  ?  Then  I  have  been 
misinformed.  What  I  have  heard  is  that  a  good  uncle 
has  kindly  bequeathed  you  a  sufficient  income  to  make 
a  second  Isaac  Newton  of  you,  if  you  only  use  it  as 
he  directs." 

Swithin  breathed  quickly,  but  said  nothing. 

"  If  you  have  not  decided  so  to  make  use  of  it,  let 
me  implore  you,  as  your  friend,  and  one  nearly  old 
enough  to  be  your  father,  to  decide  at  once.  Such  a 
chance  does  not  happen  to  a  scientific  youth  once  in  a 
century." 

"  Thank  you  for  your  good  advice — for  it  is  good  in 
itself,  I  know,"  said  Swithin,  in  a  low  voice.  "  But — 
has  Lady  Constantine  spoken  of  it  at  all?" 

"She  thinks  as  I  do." 

"  She  has  spoken  to  you  on  the  subject?" 

"  Cercainly.     More  than  that,  it   is   at  her  request— 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  239 

though  I  did  not  intend  to  say  so — that  I  come  to 
speak  to  you  about  it  now." 

"  Frankly  and  plainly,"  said  Swithin,  his  voice  trem- 
bling with  a  compound  of  scientific  and  amatory  emo- 
tion that  defies  definition,  "does  she  say  seriously  that 
she  wishes  me  to  go?" 

"  She  does." 

"  Then  go  I  will,"  said  Swithin,  firmly.  "  I  have 
been  fortunate  enough  to  interest  some  leading  astron- 
omers, including  the  Astronomer-Royal;  and  in  a  let- 
ter received  this  morning  I  learn  that  the  use  of  the 
Cape  observatory  has  been  offered  me  for  any  south- 
ern observations  I  may  wish  to  make.  This  offer  I 
will  accept.  Will  you  kindly  let  Lady  Constantine 
know  this,  since  she  is  interested  in  my  welfare?" 

Louis  promised,  and  when  he  was  gone  Swithin 
looked  blankly  at  his  own  situation,  as  if  he  could 
scarcely  believe  in  its  reality.  Iler  letter  to  him,  then, 
had  been  deliberately  written;  she  meant  him  to  go. 
But  he  was  determined  that  none  of  those  misunder- 
standings which  ruin  the  happiness  of  lovers  should 
be  allowed  to  creep  in  in  the  present  case.  He  would 
see  her,  if  he  slept  under  her  walls  all  night  to 
do  it,  and  would  hear  the  order  to  depart  from  her 
own  lips.  This  unexpected  stand  she  was  making  for 
his  interests  was  winning  his  admiration  to  such  a  de- 
gree as  to  be  in  danger  of  defeating  the  very  cause  it 
was  meant  to  subserve.  A  woman  like  this  was  not 
to  be  forsaken  in  a  hurry.  He  wrote  two  lines,  and 
left  the  note  at  the  house  with  his  own  hand: 

The  Cabin,  Ring's  Hill. 
Dearest  Viviette — If  you   insist,   I  will  go.     But 
letter-writing  will  not  do.     I  must  have  the  command 
from  your  own  two  lips;  otherwise  I  shall  not  stir.     I 
am  here  every  evening  at  seven.     Can  you  come  ? 

S. 

This  note,  as  fate  would  have  it,  reached  her  hands 
in  the  single  hour  of  that  week  when  she  was  in  a 
mood   to  comply  with  his  request — whilst  moved  by 


240  TWO  OiV  A    TOWER. 

the  reflex  emotion  that  had  followed  Louis'  praise  of 
her  for  dismissing  Swithin.  She  went  up-stairs  to  the 
window  that  had  so  long  served  purposes  of  this  kind, 
and  signalled  "yes." 

St.  Cleeve  soon  saw  the  answer  she  had  given,  and 
watched  her  approach  from  the  tower  as  the  sun  drew 
on.  The  vivid  circumstances  of  his  life  at  this  date 
led  him  ever  to  remember  the  external  scenes  in  which 
they  were  set.  It  was  now  early  autumn — the  time  of 
phenomenal  irradiations.  To-night  the  west  heaven 
gleamed  like  a  foundry  of  all  metals,  common  and 
rare;  the  clouds  were  broken  into  a  thousand  frag- 
ments, and  the  margin  of  every  fragment  shone. 
Foreseeing  the  disadvantage  and  pain  to  her  of  main- 
taining a  resolve  under  the  pressure  of  a  meeting,  he 
vowed  not  to  urge  her  by  word  or  sign;  to  put  the 
question  plainly  and  calmly,  and  to  discuss  it  with  her 
on  a  reasonable  basis  only,  like  the  philosophers  they 
assumed  themselves  to  be. 

But  this  intention  was  scarcely  adhered  to  in  all  its 
integrity.  She  duly  appeared  on  the  margin  of  the 
field,  flooded  with  the  metallic  radiance  that  marked 
the  close  of  this  day;  whereupon  he  quickly  descend- 
ed the  steps,  and  met  her  at  the  cabin  door.  As  the 
evening  grew  darker  and  darker,  he  listened  to  her 
reasoning,  which  was  precisely  a  repetition  of  that  al- 
ready sent  him  by  letter,  and  by  degrees  accepted  her 
decision,  since  she  would  not  revoke  it.  Time  came 
for  them  to  say  good-by,  and  then 

"  He  turned,  and  saw  the  terror  in  her  eyes, 
That  yearned  upon  him,  shining  in  such  wise 
As  a  star  midway  in  tlie  midnight  fixed." 

It  was  the  misery  of  her  own  condition  that  showed 
forth,  hitherto  obscured  by  her  ardor  for  ameliorating 
his.  They  closed  together  and  kissed  each  other,  as 
though  the  emotion  of  their  whole  year  and  half's  ac- 
quaintance had  settled  down  upon  that  moment. 

"  I  won't  go  away  from  you,"  said   Swithin,  huskily 
"  Why  did  you  propose  it  for  an  instant?" 


TIVO  OiV  A    TOWER.  247 

Thus  the  nearly  ended  interview  was  again  pro- 
longed. Time,  however,  was  merciless,  and  the  hour 
came  when  she  was  compelled  to  depart.  Swithin 
walked  with  her  toward  the  house,  as  he  had  walked 
many  times  before,  believing  that  all  was  now  smooth 
again  between  them,  and  caring,  it  must  be  owned, 
very  little  for  his  fame  as  an  expositor  of  the  southern 
constellations  just  then. 

When  they  reached  the  silent  house,  he  said  what 
he  had  not  ventured  to  say  before:  "Fix  the  day. 
You  have  decided  that  it  is  to  be  soon,  and  that  I  am 
not  to  go!" 

But  youthful  Swithin  was  far,  very  far,  from  being 
up  to  the  fond  subtlety  of  Viviette  this  evening.  "  I 
cannot — decide  here,"  she  said,  gently,  releasing  her- 
self from  his  arms.  "  I  will  speak  to  you  from  the 
window.     Wait  for  me." 

She  vanished;  and  he  waited.  It  was  a  long  time 
before  the  window  opened,  and  he  was  not  aware  that, 
with  her  customary  complication  of  feeling,  she  had 
knelt  for  some  time  inside  the  room  before  looking 
out. 

"  Well?"  said  he. 

"  It  cannot  be,"  she  answered.  "  I  cannot  ruin  you. 
But  the  dayafter  you  are  five-and-twenty  our  marriage 
shall  be  conlirmed,  if  3'ou  choose." 

"  Oh,  my  Viviette,  how  is  this?"  he  cried. 

"  Swithin,  I  have  not  altered.  But  I  feared  for  my 
powers,  and  could  not  tell  you  whilst  I  stood  by  your 
side.  You  are  too  young — to  be  fettered.  I  should 
have  thought  of  it  !  Do  not  communicate  with  me 
for  at  least  a  year;  it  is  imperative.  .  .  .  Do  not  tell 
me  your  plans.  If  Ave  part,  we  do  part.  I  have  vowed 
a  vow  not  to  further  obstruct  the  course  you  have  de- 
cided on  before  you  knew  me  and  my  puling  ways;  and 
by  Heaven's  help  I'll  keep  that  vow.  .  .  .  Now  go. 
These  are  the  parting  words  of  your  own  Viviette!" 

Swithin,  who  was  stable  as  a  giant  in  all  that  apper- 
tained to  nature  and  life  outside  humanity,  was  child- 
ishly flexible  in  social  matters.  He  was  quite  awed  by 
her  firmness,  and   looked  vacantly  at  her  for  a  time, 

16 


242  TIVO  ON  A    TOWER. 

till  she  closed   the  window.      Then  he  mechanicall}' 
turned,  and  went  as  she  had  commanded. 


CHAPTER   XXXVII. 

A  week  had  passed  away.  It  had  been  a  time  of 
'^^  cloudy  mental  weather  to  Swithin  and  Viviette,  but 
the  only  noteworthy  fact  about  it  was  that  what  had 
been  planned  to  happen  therein  had  actually  taken 
place.  Swithin  had  gone  from  Welland,  and  would 
shortly  go  from  England.  Lady  Constantine  became 
aware  of  it  by  a  note  which  he  posted  to  her  on  his 
way  through  Warborne.  There  was  much  evidence  of 
haste  in  the  note,  and  something  of  reserve.  The 
latter  she  could  not  understand,  but  it  might  have  been 
obvious  enough  if  she  had  considered. 

On  the  morning  of  his  departure  he  had  sat  on  the 
edge  of  his  bed  :  the  sunlight  streaming  through  the 
early  mist  ;  the  house-martins  scratching  the  back  of 
the  ceiling  over  his  head,  as  they  scrambled  out  from 
the  roof  for  their  day's  gnat-hunting  ;  the  thrushei 
cracking  snails  on  the  garden  stones  outside  with  the 
noisiness  of  little  smiths  at  work  on  little  anvils.  The 
sun  in  sending  its  rods  of  yellow  fire  into  his  room 
sent,  as  he  suddenly  thought,  mental  illumination  with 
it.  For  the  first  time,  as  he  sat  there,  it  had  crossed 
his  mind  that  Viviette  might  have  reasons  for  this 
separation  which  he  knew  not  of.  There  might  be 
family  reasons, — mysterious  blood  necessities,  which 
are  said  to  rule  members  of  all  musty-mansioned 
families,  and  are  unknown  to  other  members  of  society; 
and  they  may  have  been  just  now  brought  before  her 
by  her  brother  Louis,  on  the  condition  that  they  were 
religiously  concealed. 

The  idea  of  some  family  skeleton,  like  those  he  had 
read  of  in  memoirs,  having  been  unearthed  by  Louis, 
and  held  bef  jre  her  terrified  understanding  as  a  mat- 
ter which  rendered  Swithin's  departure  and  the  neu- 


TIVO  ON  A   TOWER.  243 

tralization  of  the  marriage  no  less  indispensable  to 
them  than  it  was  an  advantage  to  himself,  seemed  a 
very  plausible  one  to  Swithin  just  now.  Viviette 
might  naturally  have  taken  Louis  into  her  confidence 
at  last,  for  the  sake  of  his  brotherly  advice.  Swithin 
knew  that  of  her  own  heart  she  would  never  wish  to 
get  rid  of  him  ;  but  coerced  by  Louis,  might  she  not 
have  grown  to  entertain  views  of  its  expediency  ? 
Events  made  such  a  supposition  on  St.  Cleeve's  part 
as  natural  as  it  was  inaccurate,  and,  conjoined  with 
his  own  excitement  at  the  thought  of  seeing  a  new 
heaven  overhead,  influenced  him  to  write  but  the 
briefest  and  most  hurried  final  note  to  her,  in  which 
he  fully  obeyed  her  sensitive  request  that  he  would 
omit  all  reference  to  his  plans.  These,  at  the  last  mo- 
ment, had  been  modified  to  fall  in  with  the  winter  ex- 
pedition formerly  mentioned,  to  observe  the  transit  of 
Venus  at  a  remote  southern  station. 

The  business  being  done,  and  himself  plunged  into 
the  preliminaries  of  an  important  scientific  pilgrimage, 
Swithin  acquired  that  lightness  of  heart  which  most 
men  feel  in  forsaking  old  love  for  new  adventure,  no 
matter  how  charming  may  be  the  girl  they  leave  be- 
hind them.  Moreover,  in  the  present  case,  the  man 
was  endowed  with  that  school-boy  temperament  which 
does  not  see,  or  at  least  consider  with  much  curiosity, 
the  effect  of  a  given  scheme  upon  others  than  himself. 
The  bearing  upon  Lady  Constantine  of  what  was  an 
undoubted  predicament  for  any  woman  was  forgotten 
in  his  feeling  that  slae  had  done  a  very  handsome  and 
noble  thing  for  him,  and  that  he  was  therefore  bound 
in  honor  to  make  the  most  of  it. 

His  going  had  resulted  in  anything  but  lightness  of 
heart  for  her.  Her  sad  fancy  could,  indeed,  indulge 
in  dreams  of  her  yellow-haired  laddie  without  that 
formerlv  besetting  fear  that  those  dreams  would 
prompt  her  to  actions  likely  to  distract  and  hinder 
him.  She  was  wretched  on  her  own  account,  relieved 
on  his.  She  no  longer  stood  in  the  way  of  his  ad- 
vancement, and  that  was  enough.  For  herself,  she 
could  live  in  retirement  ;,  visit  the  wood,  the  old  camp. 


244  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

and  the  column,  and,  like  CEnone,  think  of  the  life 
they  had  led  there, — 

"  Mournful  CEnone,  wandering  forlorn 
Of  Paris,  once  her  playmate  on  the  hills;" 

leaving  it  entirely  to  his  goodness  whether  he  would 
come  and  claim  her  in  the  future,  or  desert  her  for- 
ever. 

She  was  diverted  for  a  time  from  these  sad  per- 
formances by  a  letter  which  reached  her  from  Bishop 
Helmsdale.  To  see  his  handwriting  again  on  an  en- 
velope, after  thinking  so  anxiously  of  making  a  fathef 
confessor  of  him,  startled  her  out  of  her  equanimity. 
She  speedily  regained  it,  however,  when  she  read  his 
note. 

The  Palace,  Melchester, 

August  15,  18 

My  Dear  Lady  Constantine, — I  am  shocked  and 
grieved  that,  in  the  strange  dispensation  of  things 
here  below,  my  offer  of  marriage  should  have  reached 
you  almost  simultaneously  with  the  intelligence  that 
your  widowhood  had  been  of  several  months'  less 
duration  than  you  and  I  and  the  world  had  supposed. 
I  can  quite  understand  that,  viewed  from  any  side,  the 
news  must  have  shaken  and  disturbed  you  ;  and  your 
unequivocal  refusal  to  entertain  any  idea  of  a  new 
alliance  at  such  a  moment  was,  of  course,  intelligible, 
natural,  and  praiseworthy.  At  present  I  will  say  no 
more  beyond  expressing  a  hope  that  you  will  accept 
my  assurances  that  I  was  quite  ignorant  of  the  news 
at  the  time  of  writing,  and  a  sincere  desire  that,  in 
due  time,  and  as  soon  as  you  have  recovered  your 
equanimity,  I  may  be  allowed  to  renew  my  proposal. 
I  am,  my  dear  Lady  Constantine, 

Yours  ever  sincerely, 

C.  Melchester. 

She  laid  the  letter  aside,  and  thought  no  more  about 
it,  beyond  a  momentary  meditation  on  the  errors  into 
which  people  fall  in  reasoning  from  actions  to  motives. 


TWO  OiV  A   TOWER.  245 

Louis,  who  was  now  again  with  her,  became,  in  due 
course,  acquainted  with  the  contents  of  the  letter,  and 
was  satisfied  with  the  promising  position  in  which 
matters  stood  all  round. 

Lady  Constantine  went  her  mournful  ways  as  she 
had  planned  to  do,  her  chief  resort  being  the  familiar 
column,  where  she  experienced  the  unutterable  melan- 
choly of  seeing  two  carpenters  dismantle  the  dome  of 
its  felt  covering,  detach  its  ribs,  and  clear  away  the 
enclosure  at  the  top,  till  everything  stood  as  it  had 
before  Swithin  had  been  known  to  the  place.  The 
equatorial  had  already  been  packed  in  a  box,  to  be  in 
readiness  if  he  should  send  for  it  from  abroad.  The 
cabin  too,  was  in  course  of  demolition,  such  having 
been  his  directions,  acquiesced  in  by  her,  before  he  start- 
ed. Yet  she  could  not  bear  the  idea  that  these  struct- 
ures, so  germane  to  the  events  of  their  romance, 
should  be  removed  as  if  removed  forever.  Going 
to  the  men,  she  bade  them  to  store  up  the  materials 
intact,  that  they  might  be  re-erected  if  desired.  She 
had  the  junctions  of  the  timbers  marked  with  figures, 
the  boards  numbered,  and  the  different  sets  of  screws 
tied  up  in  independent  papers  for  indentification.  She 
did  not  hear  the  remarks  of  the  workmen  when  she 
had  gone,  to  the  effect  that  the  young  man  would  as 
soon  think  of  buying  a  halter  for  himself  as  come 
back  and  spy  at  the  moon  from  Rings-Hill  Speer, 
after  seeing  the  glories  of  other  nations,  and  the  gold 
and  jewels  that  were  found  there,  or  she  might  have 
been  more  unhappy  than  she  was. 

On  returning  from  one  of  these  walks  to  the  column, 
a  curious  circumstance  occurred.  It  was  evening,  and 
she  was  coming  as  usual  down  through  the  sighing 
plantation,  wending  her  way  between  the  ramparts  of 
the  camp  towards  the  outlet  giving  upon  the  field, 
when  suddenly,  in  a  dusky  vista  among  the  trunks, 
she  saw,  or  thought  she  saw,  a  golden-haired  toddling 
child.  The  child  moved  a  step  or  two,  and  vanished 
behind  a  tree.  Lady  Constantine,  fearing  it  had  lost 
its  way,  went  quickly  to  the  spot,  searched,  and  called 
aloud.     But  no  child  could  she  perceive  or  hear  any 


246  TWO  ON' A   TOWER. 

where  around.  She  returned  to  where  she  had  stood 
when  first  beholding  it,  and  looked  in  the  same  di- 
rection ;  but  nothing  reappeared.  The  only  object  at 
all  resembling  a  little  boy  or  girl  was  the  upper  tuft 
of  a  bunch  of  fern,  which  had  prematurately  yellowed 
to  about  the  color  of  a  fair  child's  hair,  and  waved 
occasionally  in  the  breeze.  This,  however,  did  not 
sufficiently  explain  the  phenomenon,  and  she  returned 
to  inquire  of  the  man  whom  she  had  left  at  work  re- 
moving the  last  traces  of  Swithin's  cabin.  But  he  had 
left  with  her  departure  and  the  approach  of  night. 
Feeling  an  indescribable  dread,  she  retraced  her  steps 
and  hastened  home,  doubting  if  she  had  been  mistaken, 
yet  half  believing  that  her  imagination  must  have 
played  her  some  trick  that  day. 

The  tranquil  mournfulness  of  these  few  days  of 
solitude  was  terminated  in  a  most  unexpected  manner. 
The  morning  after  the  above-mentioned  incident. 
Lady  Constantine,  after  meditating  a  while,  arose  with 
a  conviction.  She  realized  a  condition  of  things  that 
she  had  never  anticipated,  and  for  a  moment  the  dis- 
covery so  overwhelmed  her  that  she  thought  she  must 
die  outright.  In  her  terror  she  said  she  had  sown  the 
wind  to  reap  the  whirlwind.  Then  the  instinct  of 
self-preservation  flamed  up  in  her  like  a  fire.  Her 
altruism  in  subjecting  her  self-love  to  benevolence, 
and  letting  Swithin  go  away  from  her,  was  demolished 
by  the  new  necessity,  as  if  it  had  been  a  gossamer 
web. 

There  was  no  resisting  or  evading  the  spontaneous 
plan  of  action  which  matured  itself  in  her  mind  in 
five  minutes.  Where  was  Swithin  ?  How  could  he  be 
got  at  instantly  ?  That  was  her  single  thought.  She 
searched  about  the  room  for  his  last  short  note,  hoping, 
yet  doubting,  that  its  contents  were  more  explicit  on 
his  intended  movements  than  the  few  meagre  syllables 
which  alone  she  could  call  to  mind.  She  could  not 
find  the  letter  in  her  room,  and  came  down-stairs  to 
Louis  as  pale  as  a  ghost. 

He  looked  up  at  her,  and  with  some  concern  said  : 
"  What's  the  matter  ?  " 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  241 

"  I  am  searching  everywhere  for  a  letter, — a  note 
from  Mr.  St.  Cleeve  ;  just  a  few  words,  telling  me 
when  the  Occidental  sails,  that  he  goes  in  !  " 

"Why  do  you  want  that  unimportant   document  ?  " 

"  It  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  I  should  know 
whether  he  has  sailed  or  not  !  "  said  the  poor  lady,  in 
agonized  tones.     "  Where  can  that  letter  be  ?" 

Louis  knew  where  that  letter  was,  for,  having  seen 
it  on  her  desk,  he  had,  without  reading  it,  torn  it  up 
and  thrown  it  into  the  waste-paper  basket  ;  thinking 
that  the  less  that  remained  to  remind  her  of  that 
young  philosopher  the  better.  "  I  destroyed  it,"  he 
said. 

"  Oh,  Louis,  why  did  you  ? "  she  cried,  in  despair. 
"I  am  going  to  follow  him, — I  think  it  best  .to  do  so, 
^and  I  want  to  know  if  he  is  gone,  and  now  the  date 
is  lost  !" 

"  Going  to  run  after  St.  Cleeve  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  !"  she  said,  with  vehemence  .  "  I  must 
see  him.     I  want  to  speak  to  him  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  Good  God,  Viviette,  are  you  mad  ?" 

"  Oh,  what  was  the  date  of  that  ship  ?  But  it  can- 
not be  helped.  1  start  at  once  for  Southampton.  I 
have  made  up  my  mind  to  do  it.  He  was  going  to  his 
uncle's  solicitors  in  the  north  first  ;  then  he  was  com- 
ing back  to  Southampton.  He  cannot  have  sailed 
yet." 

"  I  believe  he  has  sailed,"  muttered   Louis,  sullenly. 

She  did  not  wait  to  argue  with  him,  but  returned 
up-stairs,  where  she  rang  to  tell  Green  to  be  ready 
with  the  pony  to  drive  her  to  Warborne  station  in  a 
quarter  ot  an  hour. 


248  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 


V 


IVIETTE'S  determination  to  hamper  Swithin  no 
longer  had  led  her,  as  has  been  shown,  to  thwart 
any  weak  impulse  of  hers  to  write  and  entreat  his  re- 
turn, by  forbidding  him  to  furnish  her  with  his  foreign 
address.  His  obedient  disposition,  his  fear  that  there 
might  be  other  reasons  behind,  made  him  obey  her 
command  only  too  literally.  Thus,  to  her  terror  and 
dismay,  she  had  placed  a  gratuitous  difficulty  in  the 
way  of  her  present  endeavor 

She  was  ready  before  Green,  and  urged  on  that  fac- 
totum so  wildly  as  to  leave  him  no  time  to  change  the 
corduroys  and  skitty-boots  in  which  he  had  been 
gardening.  He  therefore  turned  himself  into  a  coach- 
man as  far  down  as  his  waist,  merely  putting  on  his 
proper  coat,  hat,  and  waistcoat,  and  wrapping  a  rug 
over  his  agricultural  half  below.  In  this  compro- 
mise he  appeared  at  the  door,  mounted,  and  reins  in 
hand. 

Seeing  how  sad  and  determined  Viviette  was,  Louis 
pitied  her  so  far  as  to  put  nothing  in  the  way  of  her 
starting,  though  he  forebore  to  help  her.  He  thought 
her  conduct  sentimental  foolery,  the  outcome  of  mis- 
taken pity,  and  "  such  a  kind  of  gain-giving  as  would 
trouble  a  woman;"  and  he  decided  that  it  would  be 
better  to  let  this  mood  burn  itself  out  than  to  keep  it 
smouldering  by  obstruction. 

•'  Do  you  remember  the  date  of  his  sailing?"  she 
said,  finally,  as    the  pony  carriage    turned  to  drive  off. 

"  He  sails  on  the  25th;  that  is  to-day.  But  it  may 
not  be  till  late  in  the  evening." 

With  this  she  started,  and  reached  Warborne  in  time 
for  the  up-train.  How  much  longer  than  it  really  is  a 
long  journey  can  seem  to  be  was  fully  learned  by  the 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  249 

unhappy  Viviette  that  day.  The  changeful  procession 
of  country  seats  past  which  she  was  dragged,  the 
names  and  memories  ot  their  owners,  had  no  points  of 
interest  for  her  now.  She  reached  Southampton  about 
midday,  and  drove  straight  to  the  docks. 

On  approaching  the  gates,  she  was  met  by  a  crowd 
of  people  and  vehicles  coming  out — men,  women,  chil- 
dren, porters,  police,  cabs,  and  carts.  The  Occidental 
had  just  sailed. 

The  adverse  intelligence  came  upon  her  with  such 
odds,  after  her  morning's  tension,  that  she  could 
scarcely  crawl  back  to  the  cab  which  had  brought  her. 
But  this  was  not  a  time  to  succumb.  As  she  had  no 
luggage  she  dismissed  the  man,  and,  without  any  real 
consciousness  of  what  she  was  doing,  strolled  away, 
and  sat  down  on  a  pile  of  merchandise. 

After  long  thinking  lier  case  assumed  a  more  hope- 
ful complexion.  Much  might  probably  be  done  toward 
communicating  wuth  him  in  the  time  at  her  command. 
The  obvious  step  to  this  end,  which  she  should  have 
thought  of  sooner,  would  be  to  go  to  his  grandmother, 
in  Welland  Bottom,  and  there  obtain  his  itinerary  in 
detail — no  doubt  well  known  to  Mrs.  Martin.  There 
was  no  leisure  for  her  to  consider  longer,  if  she  would 
be  home  again  that  night;  and,  returning  to  the  rail- 
wa}^  she  waited  on  a  seat,  without  eating  or  drinking, 
till  a  train  was  ready  to  take  her  back. 

By  the  time  she  again  stood  in  Warborne  the  sun 
rested  his  chin  upon  the  meadows,  and  enveloped  the 
distant  online  of  the  Ring's-Hill  column  in  his  humid 
rays. 

Hiring  an  empty  fly  that  chanced  to  be  at  the  sta- 
tion, she  was  driven  through  the  little  town  onward  to 
Welland,  which  she  approached  about  eight  o'clock. 
At  her  request,  the  man  set  her  down  at  the  entrance 
to  the  park;  and  when  he  was  out  of  sight,  instead 
of  pursuing  her  way  to  the  house,  she  went  along  the 
highroad  in  the  direction  of  Mrs.  Martin's. 

Dusk  was  drawing  on,  and  the  bats  were  wheeling 
over  the  green  basin  called  Welland  Bottom,  by  the 
time  she  arrived;  and  had  any  other  errand  instigated 


25°  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

her  call  she  would  have  postponed  it  till  the  morrow. 
Nobody  responded  to  her  knock,  but  she  could  hear 
footsteps  going  hither  and  thither  up-stairs,  and  dull 
noises  as  of  articles  moved  from  their  places.  She 
knocked  again  and  again,  and  ultimately  the  door  was 
opened  by  Hannah,  as  usual. 

"I  could  make  nobody  hear,"  said  Lady  Constan- 
tine,  who  was  so  weary  she  could  scarcely  stand. 

"  I  am  very,  very  sorry,  my  lady,"  said  Hannah, 
slightly  awed  on  beholding  her  visitor.  "  But  we  was 
a-putting  poor  Mr.  Swithin's  rooms  to  rights,  now  that 
he  is,  as  a  woman  may  say,  dead  and  buried  to  us;  so 
we  didn't  hear  your  ladyship.  I'll  call  Mrs.  Martin  at 
once.  She  is  up  in  the  room  that  used  to  be  his  work- 
room." 

Here  Hannah's  voice  implied  moist  eyes,  and  Lady 
Constantine's  immediately  overflowed. 

"No;  I'll  go  up  to  her,"  said  Viviette;  and  almost 
in  advance  of  Hannah  she  passed  up  the  shrunken  ash 
stairs. 

The  ebbing  light  was  not  enough  to  reveal  to 
Mrs.  Martin's  aged  gaze  the  personality  of  her  visitor 
till  Hannah  explained.  "  I'll  get  a  light,  my  lady,"  she 
said. 

"  No,  I  would  rather  not.  What  are  you  doing,  Mrs. 
Martin?" 

"Well,  the  poor  misguided  boy  is  gone,  and  he's 
gone  for  good  to  me.  I  am  a  woman  of  over  four- 
score years,  my  Lady  Constantine;  my  junketing  days 
are  over,  and  whether  'tis  feasting  or  whether  'tis  sor- 
rowing in  the  land  will  soon  be  nothing  to  me.  But 
his  life  may  be  long  and  active,  and  for  the  sake  of 
him  I  care  for  what  I  shall  never  see,  and  wish  to 
make  pleasant  what  I  shall  never  enjoy.  I  am  setting 
his  room  in  order,  as  the  place  will  be  his  own  free- 
hold when  I  am  gone  ;  so  that  when  he  comes  back 
he  may  find  all  his  poor  jim-cracks  and  trangleys 
as  he  left  'em,  and  not  feel  that  I  have  betrayed  his 
trust." 

Old  Mrs.  Martin's  voice  revealed  that  she  had  burst 
into  such  few  tears  as  were  left  her,  and  then  Hannah 


TWO  OA^  A    TOWER.  25 1 

began  crying,  likewise;  whereupon  Lady  Constantine, 
whose  heart  had  been  bursting  all  day  (and  who, 
indeed,  considering  her  looming  trouble,  had  reason 
enough  for  tears),  broke  into  bitterer  sobs  than  eith- 
er— sobs  of  asolute  pain  that  could  no  longer  be  con- 
cealed. 

Hannah  was  the  first  to  discover  that  Lady  Con- 
stantine was  weeping  with  them,  and  her  feelings  be- 
ing probably  the  least  intense  among  the  three,  she 
instantly  controlled  herself. 

"Refrain  yourself,  my  dear  woman,"  she  said,  hastily, 
to  Mrs.  Martin.  "Don't  you  see  how  it  disturbs  my 
lady?"  And  turning  to  Viviette  she  whispered:  "Her 
years  be  so  great,  your  ladyship,  that  perhaps  ye'll 
excuse  her  for  bursting  out  afore  ye?  We  know  when 
the  mind  is  dim,  my  lady,  there's  not  the  manners 
there  should  be;  but  decayed  people  can't  help  it,  poof 
old  soul!" 

"  Hannah,  that  will  do  now.  Perhaps  Lady  Con- 
stantine would  like  to  speak  to  me  alone,"  said  Mrs. 
Martin.  And  when  Hannah  had  retreated  Mrs.  Mar- 
tin continued:  "Such  a  charge  as  she  is,  my  lady,  on 
account  of  her  great  age!  You'll  pardon  her  biding 
here  as  if  she  were  one  of  the  family.  I  put  up  with 
such  things  because  of  her  long  service,  and  we  know 
that  years  lead  to  childishness." 

"  What  are  you  doing?  Can  I  help  you?"  Viviette 
asked,  as  Mrs.  Martin,  after  speaking,  turned  to  lift 
some  large  article. 

"  Oh,  'tis  only  the  rames  of  a  telescope  that's  got 
no  works  in  his  inside,"  said  Swithin's  grandmother, 
seizing  the  huge  pasteboard  tube  that  Switliin  had 
made  and  abandoned,  because  he  could  get  no  lenses 
to  suit  it.  "  I  am  going  to  hang  it  up  to  these  hooks, 
and  there  it  will  bide  till  he  comes  again." 

Lady  Constantine  took  one  end.  and  the  tube  was 
hung  up  against  the  whitewashed  wall  by  strings  that 
the  old  woman  had  tied  around  it.  "Here's  all  his 
equinoctial  lines,  and  his  topics  of  Capricorn,  and  I 
don't  know  what  besides,"  Mrs.  Martin  continued, 
pointing  to  some  charcoal   scratches  upon  the   wall. 


252  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

"  I  shall  never  rub  'em  out  ;  no,  though  'tis  such  unti- 
diness as  I  was  never  brought  up  to,  I  shall  never  rub 
'em  out." 

"Where  has  Swithin  gone  to  first  ?"  asked  Viviette 
anxiously.  "  Where  does  he  say  you  are  to  write  to 
him  ?" 

"  Nowhere  yet,  my  lady.  He's  going  traipsing  all 
over  Europe  and  America,  and  then  to  the  South 
Pacific  Ocean  about  this  Transit  of  Venus  that's  going 
to  be  done  there.  He  is  to  write  to  us  first, — God 
knows  when! — for  he  said  that  if  we  didn't  hear  from 
him  for  six  months  we  were  not  to  be  gallied  at  all." 

At  this  intelligence,  so  much  worse  than  she  had  ex- 
pected, Lady  Constantine  stood  mute,  sank  down,  and 
would  have  fallen  to  the  floor  if  there  had  not  been  a 
chair  behind  her.  Controlling  herself  by  a  strenuous 
effort,  she  disguised  her  despair,  and  asked  vacantly: 
"  From  America  to  the  South  Pacific — transit  of  Ve- 
nus ?"  (Swithin's  arrangement  to  accompany  the  ex- 
pedition had  been  made  at  the  last  moment,  and 
therefore  she  had  not  as  yet  been  informed.) 

"  Yes, — to  a  lone  island,  I  believe." 

"  Yes, — a  lone  islant,  my  lady,"  echoed  Hannah,  who 
had  crept  in  and  made  herself  one  of  the  family  again, 
in  spite  of  Mrs.  Martin. 

"  He  is  going  to  meet  the  English  and  American  as- 
tronomers there  at  the  end  of  the  year.  After  that  he 
will  most  likely  go  on  to  the  Cape." 

"  But  before  the  end  of  the  year,  what  places  did 
he  tell  you  of  visiting  ?" 

"  Let  me  collect  myself.  He  is  going  to  the  obser- 
vatory of  Cambridge,  United  States,  to  meet  some 
gentlemen  there,  and  spy  through  the  great  refractor. 
Then  there's  the  observatory  of  Chicago,  and  I  think 
he  has  a  letter  to  make  him  beknown  to  a  gentleman 
in  the  observatory  at  Marseilles  ;  and  he  wants  to  go 
to  Vienna  ;  and  Poulkowa,  too,  he  means  to  take  in 
his  way, — there  being  learned  instruments  and  a  staf? 
of  astronomers  at  each  place." 

"  Does  he  take  Europe  or  America  first  ?"  she  asked 
faintly,  for  the  account  seemed  hopeless. 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  253 

Mis.  Martin  could  not  tell  till  she  had  heard  from 
Swithin.  It  depended  upon  what  he  had  been  advised 
to  do  by  his  great-uncle's  solicitor. 

Lady  Constantine  bade  the  old  people  good-bye, 
and  dragged  her  weary  limbs  homeward.  The 
fatuousness  of  forethought  had  seldom  been  evinced 
more  ironically.  Had  she  done  nothing  to  hinder  him, 
he  would  have  kept  up  an  unreserved  communication 
with  her,  and  all  might  have  been  well. 

For  that  night  she  could  undertake  nothing  further, 
and  she  waited  for  the  next  day.  Then  at  once  she 
wrote  two  letters  to  Swithin,  directing  one  to  the 
Marseilles  observatory,  one  to  the  observatory  at 
Cambridge,  Massachusets,  as  being  the  only  two  spots 
on  the  face  of  the  globe  at  which  they  were  likely  to 
intercept  him.  Each  letter  stated  to  him  the  urgent 
reasons  which  existed  for  his  return,  and  contained  a 
passionately  regretful  intimation  that  the  annuity,  on 
which  his  hopes  depended,  must  of  necessity  be  sacri- 
ficed by  the  completion  of  their  original  contract, 
without  delay. 

But  letter  conveyance  was  too  slow  a  process  to 
satisfy  her.  To  send  an  epitome  of  her  epistles  by 
telegraph  was,  after  all,  indispensable.  Such  an  im- 
ploring sentence  as  she  desired  to  address  to  him  it 
would  be  hazardous  to  dispatch  from  Warborne  ;  and 
she  took  a  dreary  journey  to  Southampton,  on 
purpose  to  send  it  from  an  office  at  which  she  was  un- 
known. 

Here  she  handed  in  her  messages  in  duplicate,  ad- 
dressing them  as  she  had  addressed  the  letters,  and 
again  returned  home. 

With  regard  to  Marseilles,  she  assumed  that  an  an- 
swer might  be  expected  in  a  day,  if  he  had  gone  there. 
She  waited  two  days,  three  days  ;  and  there  being  no 
return  telegram  from  Marseilles,  the  inference  was 
that  he  had  gone  to  America.  For  an  answer  to  her 
American  telegram  she  ought  to  wait  a  week  or  ten 
days  longer,  to  allow  him  to  get  to  Cambridge  and  re- 
ceive it, 


254  TWO  ON  A    TO  WE  J?. 

Then  she  considered  the  weakness,  the  stultifying 
nature,  of  her  attempt  at  recall. 

Events  mocked  her  on  all  sides.  By  the  favor  of  an 
accident,  and  by  her  own  immense  exertions  against 
her  instincts,  Swithin  had  been  restored  to  the  right- 
ful heritage  that  he  had  nearly  forfeited  on  her  ac- 
count. He  had  just  started  off  to  utilize  it ;  when  she, 
without  a  moment's  warning,  was  asking  him  again  to 
cast  it  away.  She  had  set  a  certain  machinery  in 
motion,  to  stop  it  before  it  liad  revolved  once. 

A  horrid  apprehension  possessed  her.  It  had  been 
easy  for  Swithin  to  give  up  what  he  had  never  known 
the  advantage  of  keeping  ;  but  having  once  begun  to 
enjoy  his  possession,  would  he  give  it  up  now  ?  Could 
he  be  depended  on  for  such  self-sacrifice  ?  Suppose 
there  arrived  no  reply  from  him  for  the  next  three 
months,  and  that,  when  his  answer  came,  he  were  to 
inform  her  that,  having  now  fully  acquiesced  in  her 
original  decision,  he  found  the  life  he  was  leading  so 
profitable  as  to  be  unable  fo  abandon  it,  even  to  please 
her  ;  that  he  was  very  sorry,  but  having  embarked  on 
this  course  by  her  advice,  he  meant  to  adhere  to  it  by 
his  own. 

There  was,  indeed,  every  probability  that,  moving 
about  as  he  was  doing,  and  cautioned  as  he  had  been 
by  her  very  self  against  listening  to  her  too  readily, 
she  would  receive  no  reply  of  any  sort  from  him  for 
three,  or  perhaps,  four  months.  This  would  be  on  the 
eve  of  the  transit,  and  what  likelihood  was  there  that 
a  young  man,  full  of  ardor  for  that  spectacle,  would 
forego  it  at  the  last  moment  to  a  humdrum  domesticity 
with  a  woman  eight  years  his  senior  ? 

If  she  could  only  leave  him  to  his  career,  and  save 
her  own  situation  also!  But  at  that  momeiit  the  prop- 
osition seemed  as  impossible  as  to  construct  a  tri- 
angle of  two  straight  lines. 

In  her  walk  home,  pervaded  by  these  hopeless  views, 
she  passed  near  the  dark  and  deserted  tower.  Night 
in  that  solitary  place,  which  would  have  caused  her 
some  uneasiness  in  her  years  of  blitheness,  had  no 
terrors  for  her  now.     She  went  up  the  winding  path, 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  255 

and,  the  door  being  unlocked,  felt  her  way  to  the  top. 
The  open  sky  greeted  her  as  in  times  previous  to  the 
dome  and  equatorial  period  ;  but  there  was  not  a  star 
to  suggest  to  her  in  which  direction  Swithin  had 
gone.  The  absence  of  the  dome  suggested  a  way  out 
of  her  difficulties.  A  leap  in  the  dark,  and  all  would 
be  over.  But  she  had  not  reached  that  stage  of  action 
as  yet,  and  the  thought  was  dismissed  as  quickly  as  it 
had  come. 

The  new  consideration  which  at  present  occupied 
her  mind  was  whether  she  could  have  the  courage  to 
leave  Swithin  to  himself,  as  in  the  original  plan,  and 
singly  meet  her  impending  trial,  despising  the  shame, 
till  he  should  return,  at  five-and-twenty,  and  claim  her. 
Yet  was  this  assumption  of  his  return  so  very  safe  ? 
How  altered  things  would  be  at  that  time !  At 
tv/enty-five  he  would  still  be  young  and  handsome  ; 
she  would  be  three-and-thirty,  faded,  middle-aged, 
and  homely.  A  fear  sharp  as  a  frost  settled  down 
upon  her  that  in  any  such  scheme  as  this  she  would  be 
building  upon  the  sand. 

She  hardly  knew  how  she  reached  home  that  night! 
Entering  by  the  lawn  door,  she  saw  a  red  coal  in  the 
direction  of  the  arbor.  Louis  was  smoking  there  and 
he  came  forward. 

He  had  not  seen  her  since  the  morning,  and  was 
naturally  anxious  about  her.  She  blessed  the  chance 
which  enveloped  her  in  night,  and  lessened  the  weight 
of  the  encounter  one  half  by  depriving  him  of  vision, 

"Did  you  accomplish  your  object?"  he  asked. 

"  No,"  said  she. 

"  How  was   that  ?" 

"  He  has  sailed." 

"A  very  good  thing  for  both,  I  say.  I  believe  you 
would  have  married  him  if  you  could  have  overtaken 
him." 

"  That  would  I,"  she  said  fervently. 

"Good  God!  What!  Would  you  marry  anybody 
or  anything  ?  "  asked  Louis,  aghast. 

"  I  would  marry  a  tinker,  for  that  matter,"  she  said, 
recklessly.     "  Only  I  should  prefer  to  drown  myself  " 


25 <5  TWO  0 A' A    TOWER. 

Louis  held  his  breath,  and  stood  rigid,  such  was  the 
force  of  the  meaning  her  words  conveyed. 

"  But  Louis,  you  don't  know  all  !"  cried  poor  Vivi- 
ette.  "  I  am  not  so  bad  as  you  think  !  Mine  has  been 
folly,  not  vice.  I  thought  I  had  married  him — and 
then  I  found  I  had  not — the  marriage  was  invalid — 
Sir  Blount  was  alive.  And  now  Swithin  has  gone 
away,  and  will  not  come  back  for  my  calling.  How 
can  he  !  His  fortune  is  left  him  on  condition  that  he 
forms  no  legal  tie.     Oh,  will  he,  will  he  come  again  !" 

"  Never,  if  that's  the  position  of  affairs,"  said  Louis, 
firmly,  after  a  pause. 

"What  then  shall  I  do  ?"  said  Viviette. 

Louis  escaped  the  formidable  difficulty  of  replying 
by  pretending  to  continue  his  Havana,  and  she,  bowed 
down  to  dust  by  what  she  had  revealed,  crept  from 
him  into  the  house.  Louis's  cigar  went  out  in  his 
hand,  as  he  stood  looking  intently  at  the  ground. 


CHAPTER   XXXIX. 

T    OUIS  got  up  the  next   morning  with  an  idea  in  his 
head.     He  had  dressed  for  a  journey,  and  break- 
fasted hastily. 

Before  he  had  started  Viviette  came  down  stairs. 
Louis,  who  was  now  greatly  disturbed  about  her, 
went  up  to  his  sister  and  took  her  hand. 

^' Atcx  grands  nuiux  les  grands  remedes"  he  said, 
gravely.     "  I  have  a  plan." 

"  I  have  a  dozen,"  said  she. 

"  You  have  ?" 

"  Yes.  But  what  are  they  worth  ?  And  yet  there 
must,  there  must  be  a  way  !" 

"Viviette,"  said  Louis,  "  promise  that  you  will  wait 
till  I  come  home  to-night,  before  you  do  anything." 

Her  distracted  eyes  showed  but  slight  comprehen- 
sion of  his  request,  as  she  said:  "  Yes." 

An  hour  after  that  time  Louis  entered  the  train  at 
Warborne,    and  was  speedily   crossing  a  country  of 


TWO  0 A'  A   TOWER.  257 

rag-ged  woodland,  which,  although  intruded  on  by 
the  plow  at  places,  remained  largely  intact  from  pre- 
historic times,  and  still  abounded  with  yews  of  gigantic 
growth,  and  oaks  tufted  with  mistletoe.  It  was  the 
route  to  Melchester. 

On  setting  foot  in  that  city,  he  took  the  cathedral 
spire  as  his  guide,  the  place  being  strange  to  him  ;  and 
went  on  till  he  reached  the  archway  dividing  Melches- 
ter sacred  from  Melchester  secular.  Thence  he 
threaded  his  course  into  the  precincts  of  the  damp 
and  venerable  Close,  level  as  a  bowling-green,  and 
beloved  of  rooks,  who,  from  their  elm  perches  on  high, 
threatened  any  unwary  gazer  with  the  mishap  of 
Tobit.  At  the  corner  of  this  reposeful  spot  stood  the 
episcopal  palace. 

Louis  entered  the  gates,  rang  the  bell,  and  looked 
around.  Here  the  trees  and  rooks  seemed  older,  if 
possible,  than  those  in  the  Close  behind  him.  Every- 
thing was  dignified,  and  he  felt  himself  like  Punchi- 
nello in  the  king's  chambers.  Verily,  in  the  present 
case,  Glanville  was  net  a  man  to  stick  at  trifles  any 
more  than  his  illustrious  prototype  ;  and  on  the  ser- 
vant bringing  a  message  that  his  lordship  would  see 
him  at  once,  Louis  marched  boldly  in. 

Through  an  old  corridor,  roofed  with  old,  dark 
beams,  the  servant  led  the  waj^  to  the  heavily  molded 
door  of  the  bishop's  room.  Dr.  Helmsdale  was  there, 
and  welcomed  Louis  with  considerable  stateliness. 
But  his  condescension  was  tempered  with  a  curious 
anxiety,  and  even  with  nervousness. 

He  asked  in  pointed  tones  after  the  health  of  Lady 
Constantine  ;  if  Louis  had  brought  an  answer  to  the 
letter  he  had  addressed  to  her  a  day  or  two  earlier  ; 
and  if  the  contents  of  the  letter,  or  the  previous  one, 
were  known  to  him. 

"I  have  brought  no  answer  from  her,"  said  Louis, 
"  but  the  contents  of  your  letter  have  been  made  known 
tome." 

Since  entering  the  building  Louis  had  more  than 
once  felt  some  hef.itation,  and  it  might  now,  with  a 
favoring  manner  from  his   entertainer,  have   operated 

17 


258  TIVO  ON  A    TOWER. 

to  deter  him  from  going  further  with  his  intention. 
But  the  bishop  had  personal  weaknesses  that  were  fa- 
tal to  sympathy  for  more  than  a  moment. 

"  Then  I  may  speak  in  confidence  to  you  as  her 
nearest  relative,"  said  his  lordship,  "and  explain  that 
I  am  now  in  a  position  with  regard  to  Lady  Constan- 
tine,  which,  in  view  of  the  important  office  I  hold,  I 
should  not  have  cared  to  place  myself  in,  unless  I  had 
felt  quite  sure  of  not  being  refused  by  her.  And 
hence  it  is  a  great  grief  and  some  mortification  to  me 
that  I  was  refused;  owing,  of  course,  to  the  fact  that 
I  unwittingly  risked  making  my  proposal  at  the  very 
moment  when  she  was  under  the  influence  of  those 
strange  tidings,  and  hence  not  able  to  judge  what  was 
best  for  her." 

The  bishop's  words  disclosed  a  mind  whose  sensi- 
tive fear  of  danger  to  its  own  dignity  hindered  it  from 
criticism  elsewhere.  Things  might  have  been  worse 
for  Louis'  Puck-like  idea  of  mismating  his  Hermia 
with  this  Demetrius. 

Throwing  a  strong  flavor  of  earnestness  into  his 
mien,  he  replied:  "Your  lordship,  Viviette  is  my  only 
sister;  I  am  her  only  brother  and  friend.  I  am  alarmed 
for  her  health  and  state  of  mind.  Hence  I  have  come 
to  consult  you  on  this  very  matter  you  have  broached. 
I  come  absolutely  without  her  knowledge,  and  I  hope 
unconventionaiity  may  be  excused  in  me  on  the  score 
of  my  anxiety  for  her." 

"Certainly.  I  trust  that  the  prospect  opened  up  by 
my  proposal,  combined  with  this  other  news,  has  not 
proved  too  much  for  her." 

"  My  sister  is  distracted  and  distressed,  Bishop 
Helmsdale.     She  wants  comfort." 

"Not  distressed  by  my  letter  ?"  said  the  bishop, 
turning  red.     "  Has  it  lowered  me  in  her  estimation?" 

"On  the  contrary,  while  your  disinterested  offer  was 
uppermost  in  her  mind  she  was  a  different  woman.  It 
is  this  other  matter  that  oppresses  her.  The  result 
upon  her  of  the  recent  discovery  with  regard  to  the 
late  Sir  Blount  Constantine  is  peculiar.  To  say  that 
he  ill-used  her  in  his  life-time  is  to  understate  a  truth. 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  259 

He  has  been  dead  now  a  considerable  period;  but  this 
revival  of  his  memory  operates  as  a  sort  of  terror 
upon  her.  Images  of  the  manner  of  Sir  Blount's 
death  are  with  her  night  and  day,  intensified  by  a  hid- 
eous picture  of  the  supposed  scene,  which  was  cruelly 
sent  her.  She  dreads  being  alone.  Nothing  will  re- 
store my  poor  Viviette  to  her  former  cheerfulness  but 
a  dictraction,  a  hope,  a  new  prospect." 

"  That  is  precisely  what  acceptance  of  my  offer 
would  afford." 

"  Precisely,"  said  Louis,  with  great  respect.  "But 
how  to  get  her  to  avail  herself  of  it,  after  once  refus- 
ing you,  is  the  difficulty,  and  my  earnest  problem!" 

"  Then  we  are  quite  at  one!" 

"We  are.  And  it  is  to  promote  our  wishes  that  I 
am  come,  since  she  will  do  nothing  of  herself." 

"  Then  you  can  give  me  no  hope  of  a  reply  to  my 
second  communication?" 

"  None  whatever,  by  letter,"  said  Louis.  "  Her  im- 
pression, plainly,  is  that  she  cannot  encourage  your 
lordship.  Yet,  in  the  face  of  all  this  reticence,  the  se- 
cret is  that  she  loves  you  warmly." 

"Canyon  indeed  assure  me  of  that?  Indeed — in- 
deed!" said  Bishop  Helmsdale,  musingly.  "Then  I 
must  try  to  see  her.  I  begin  to  feel — to  feel  strongly — 
that  a  course  which  would  seem  premature  and  unbe- 
coming in  other  cases  would  be  true  and  proper  con- 
duct in  this.  Her  unhappy  dilemma,  her  unwonted 
position,  yes,  yes,  I  see  it  all!  I  can  afford  to  have 
some  little  misconstruction  put  upon  my  motives.  I 
will  go  and  see  her  immediately.  Her  past  has  been 
a  cruel  one;  she  wants  sympathv,  and  with  Heaven's 
help  I'll  give  it." 

"  I  think  the  remedy  lies  that  way,"  said  Louis,  gen- 
tly. "Some  words  came  from  her  one  night  which 
seemed  to  show  it.  I  was  standing  on  the  terrace;  I 
heard  somebodysigh  in  the  dark, and  found  that  itwas 
she.  1  asked  her  what  was  the  matter,  and  gently 
pressed  her  on  this  subject  of  boldly  and  promptly 
contracting  a  new  marriage  as  a  means  of  dispersing 
the  horrors  of  the  old.     Her  answer  implied  that  she 


26o  TWO  OiV  A    TOWER. 

would  have  no  objection  to  do  it,  and  to  do  it  at  once, 
provided  she  could  remain  externally  passive  in  the 
matter;  that  she  would  tacitly  yield,  in  fact,  to  pres- 
sure, but  would  not  meet  solicitation  half-way.  Now, 
Bishop  Helmsdale,  you  see  what  has  prompted  me. 
On  the  one  hand  is  a  dignitary  of  high  position  and 
integrity,  to  say  no  more,  who  is  anxious  to  save  her 
from  the  gloom  of  her  situation;  on  the  other  is  this 
sister,  who  will  not  make  known  to  you  her  willing- 
ness to  be  saved — partly  from  apathy,  partly  from  a 
fear  that  she  may  be  thought  forward  in  responding 
favorably  at  so  early  a  moment;  partly,  also,  perhaps, 
from  a  modest  sense  that  there  would  be  some  sacri- 
fice on  your  part  in  allying  yourself  with  a  woman  of 
her  secluded  and  sad  experience." 

"Oh,  there  is  no  sacrifice!  Ouite  otherwise.  I  care 
greatly  for  this  alliance,  Mr.  Glanville.  Your  sister  is 
very  dear  to  me.  Moreover,  the  advantages  her  mind 
would  derive  from  the  enlarged  field  of  activity  that 
the  position  of  a  bishop's  wife  would  afford  are  pal- 
pable. I  am  induced  to  think  that  an  early  settle- 
ment of  the  question,  an  immediate  coming  to  the 
point,  which  might  be  called  too  early  in  the  majority 
of  cases,  would  be  a  right  and  considerate  tenderness 
here.  My  only  dread  is  lest  she  should  think  an  im- 
mediate following  up  of  the  subject  premature.  And 
the  risk  of  a  rebuff  a  second  time  is  one  which,  as  you 
must  perceive,  it  would  be  highly  unbecoming  in  me 
to  run." 

"  I  think  the  risk  would  be  small,  if  your  lordship 
would  approach  her  frankly.  Write  she  will  not,  I  am 
assured;  and  having  her  interest  at  heart,  it  was  that 
which  induced  me  to  come  to  you,  and  make  this  can- 
did statement  in  reply  to  your  communication.  Her 
late  husband  having  been  virtually  dead  these  four  or 
five  years,  believed  dead  two  years,  and  actually  dead 
nearly  one,  no  reproach  could  attach  to  her  if  she  were 
to  contract  another  union  to-morrow." 

"  I  agree  with  you,  Mr.  Glanville,"  said  the  bishop, 
warmly.  "  I  will  think  this  over.  Her  motive  in  not 
replying  I  can  quite  understand;  your  motive  in  com- 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  261 

ing  I  can  also  understand  and  appreciate  in  a  brother. 
If  I  feel  convinced  that  it  would  be  a  seemly  and  ex- 
pedient thing,  I  will  come  to  Welland  to-morrow  " 

The  point  to  which  Louis  had  brought  the  bishop 
being  so  satisfactory,  he  feared  to  endanger  it  by  an- 
other word.  The  interview  having  ended  as  far  as  its 
object  was  concerned,  he  went  away  almost  hurriedly, 
and  at  on-ce  left  the  precincts  of  the  cathedral,  lest  an- 
other encounter  with  Bishop  Helmsdale  should  lead 
the  latter  to  take  a  new  and  slower  view  of  his  duties 
as  Viviette's  suitor. 

He  reached  Welland  by  dinner-time,  and  came  upon 
Viviette  in  the  same  pensive  mood  in  which  he  had 
left  her.  It  seemed  that  she  had  hardly  moved 
since. 

"  Have  you  discovered  Swithin  St.  Cleeve's  address?" 
she  said,  without  looking  up  at  him. 

"  No,"  said  Louis. 

Then  she  broke  out  with  indescribable  anguish : 
*'  But  you  asked  me  to  wait  till  this  evening  ;  and  I 
have  waited  through  the  long  day  in  the  belief  that 
your  words  meant  something,  and  that  you  would 
bring  good  tidings  !  And  now  I  lind  your  words 
meant  nothing,  and  vou  have  not  brought  good  tid- 
ings !  " 

Louis  could  not  decide  for  a  moment  what  to  say  to 
this.  Should  he  venture  to  give  her  thoughts  a  new 
course  by  a  revelation  of  his  design  ?  No  ;  it  would 
be  better  to  prolong  her  despair  yet  another  night, 
and  spring  relief  upon  her  suddenly,  that  she  might 
jump  at  it,  and  commit  herself  without  an  interval  in 
reflection  on  certain  aspects  of  the   proceeding. 

Nothing,  accordingly,  did  he  say,  and,  conjecturing 
that  she  would  be  hardly  likely  to  take  any  desperate 
step  that  night,  he  left  her  to  herself. 

His  an.Kiety  at  this  crisis  began  to  be  great.  Every- 
thing depended  on  the  result  of  the  bishop's  self-com- 
munion. Would  he,  or  would  he  not,  come  the  next 
day  ?  Perhaps  instead  of  his  important  presence  there 
would  appear  a  letter  postponing  the  visit  indefinitely; 
if  so,  all  would  be  lost.     The  bishop   was  as  abjectly 


262  TWO  ON  A   TOWER, 

in  love  as  only  pompous  people  can  be,  and  this  thought 
gave  him  hope., 

Louis's  suspense  kept  him  awake,  and  he  was  not 
alone  in  his  sleeplessness.  Through  the  night  he  heard 
his  sister  walking  up  and  down,  in  a  state  which  be- 
tokened that  for  every  pang  of  grief  she  had  disclosed 
twice  as  many  had  remained  unspoken.  He  almost 
feared  that  she  might  seek  to  end  her  existence  by 
violence,  so  unreasonably  sudden  were  her  moods  ; 
and  he  lay  and  longed  for  the  day. 

It  was  morning.  She  came  down  the  same  as  usual, 
and  asked  if  there  had  arrived  any  telegram  or  letter^ 
but  there  was  neither.  Louis  avoided  her,  knowing 
that  nothing  he  could  say  just  then  would  do  her  any 
good.  No  communication  had  reached  him  from  the 
bishop,  and  that  looked  well.  By  one  ruse  and  another, 
as  the  day  went  on,  he  led  her  away  from  contemplat- 
ing the  remote  possibility  of  hearing  from  Swithin, 
and  led  her  to  look  at  the  worst  contingency  as  her 
probable  fate.  It  seemed  as  if  she  really  made  up  her 
mind  to  this,  for  by  the  afternoon  she  was  apathetic, 
like  a  woman  who  neither  hoped  nor  feared. 

And  then  a  fly  drove  up  to  the  door. 

Louis,  who  had  been  standing  in  the  hall  the  greater 
part  of  that  day,  glanced  out  through  a  private  win- 
dow, and  went  to  Viviette.  "  The  bishop  has  called," 
he  said.     "  Be  ready  to  see  him." 

"The  Bishop  of  Melchester  ?"  said  Viviette,  be- 
wildered. 

"  Yes.  I  asked  him  to  come.  He  comes  for  an  an- 
swer to  his  letters." 

"  An  answer — to — his — letters?"  she  murmured. 

"  An  immediate  reply  of  yes  or  no." 

Her  face  showed  the  workings  of  her  mind.  How 
entirely  an  answer  of  assent,  at  once  acted  on  for  bet- 
ter or  for  worse,  would  clear  the  specter  from  her 
path,  there  needed  no  tongue  to  tell.  It  would,  more- 
over, accomplish  that  end  without  involving  the  im- 
poverishment of  Swithin,  the  inevitable  result  if  she 
had  adopted  the  legitimate  road  out  of  her  trouble 
Hitherto  there  had  seemed  to  her  dismayed  mind,  un- 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  263 

enlightened  as  to  any  course  save  one  of  honesty,  no 
achievement  of  both  her  desires — the  saving  of  Swithin 
and  the  saving  of  herself.  But  behold,  here  is  a  vi'ay! 
A  tempter  had  shown  it  to  her.  It  involved  a  great 
wrong,  which  to  her  had  quite  obscured  its  feasibility. 
But  she  perceived  now  that  it  was  indeed  a  way. 
Nature  was  forcing  her  hand  at  the  game  ;  and  to 
what  will  not  nature  compel  her  weaker  victims  in 
extremes  ? 

Louis  left  her  to  think  it  cut.  When  he  reached  the 
drawing-room  Dr.  Helmsdale  was  standing  there,  with 
the  air  of  a  man  too  good  for  his  errand — which  was, 
indeed,  not  far  from  the  truth. 

"Have  you  broken  my  message  to  her?"  asked  the 
bishop,  sonorously. 

"Not  your  message;  your  visit,"  said  Louis.  "I 
leave  the  rest  to  your  lordship's  hands.  I  have  done 
all  I  can  for  her." 

Viviette  was  in  her  ow^n  small  room  to-day.  Feel- 
ing that  it  must  be  a  bold  stroke  or  none,  Louis  led 
the  bishop  across  the  hall  till  they  reached  the  apart- 
ment, opened  the  door,  and,  instead  of  following,  shut 
it  behind  him. 

Then  Glanville  passed  an  anxious  time.  He  walked 
from  the  foot  of  the  staircase  to  the  star  of  old  swords 
and  pikes  on  the  wall  ;  from  these  to  the  stags' horns; 
thence  down  the  corridor  as  far  as  the  door,  where  he 
could  hear  murmuring  inside,  but  not  its  import.  The 
longer  they  remained  closeted,  the  more  excited  did 
he  become.  That  she  had  not  peremptorily  negatived 
the  proposal  at  the  outset  was  a  strong  sign  of  its 
success.  It  showed  that  she  had  admitted  argument  ; 
and  the  worthy  bishop  had  a  pleader  on  his  side  whom 
he  little  knew  of.  The  very  weather  seemed  to  favor 
Dr.  Helmsdale  in  his  suit.  A  blusterous  wind  had 
blown  from  the  west,  howling  in  the  smokeless  chim- 
neys, and  suggesting  to  the  feminine  mind  storms  at 
sea,  a  tossing  ocean,  and  the  hopeless  inaccessibility 
of  all  astronomers  and  men  (^n  the  other  side  of  the 
same.  The  bishop  entered  \'ivitte's  room  at  ten 
minutes  past  three.     The  long  hand  of  the  clock  lay 


264  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

level  at  forty-five  minutes  past  when  the  door  moved, 
and  he  came  out.  Louis  met  him  where  the  passage 
joined  the  hall.  Dr.  Helmsdale  was  decidedly  in  an 
emotional  state,  his  face  being  slightly  flushed.  Louis 
looked  his  anxious  inquiry  without  speaking  it. 

"  She  accepts  me,'  said  the  bishop,  in  a  low  voice. 
"  And  the  wedding  is  to  be  soon.  Her  long  solitude 
and  sufferings  justify  haste.  What  you  said  was  true. 
Sheer  weariness  and  distraction  had  driven  her  to  me. 
She  was  quite  passive  at  last,  and  agreed  to  anything 
I  proposed — such  is  the  persuasive  force  of  a  trained 
mind  !  A  good  and  wise  woman,  she  perceived  what 
a  true  shelter  from  sadness  was  offered,  and  was  not 
the  one  to  despise  Heaven's  gift." 


CHAPTER   XL. 

nPHE  silence  of  Swithin  was  to  be  accounted  for  by 
the  circumstance  that  neither  to  Marseilles  nor  to 
America  had  he,  in  the  first  place,  directed  his  steps. 
Feeling  himself  absolutely  free,  he  had,  upon  arriving 
at  Southampton,  decided  to  make  haste  to  the  Cape. 
His  object  was  to  leave  his  heavier  luggage  there,  ex- 
amine the  capabilities  of  the  spot  for  his  purpose,  find 
out  the  necessity  or  otherwise  of  shipping  over  his 
own  equatorial,  and  then  cross  to  America  as  soon  as 
there  was  a  good  opportunity.  Here  he  might  inquire 
the  movements  of  the  transit  expedition  to  the  South 
Pacific,  and  join  it  at  such  a  point  as  might  be  con- 
venient. 

Thus,  though  wrong  in  her  premises,  Viviette  had 
intuitively  decided  with  absolute  precision.  There 
was,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  no  chance  of  her  being  able 
to  communicate  with  him  for  several  months,  notwith- 
standing that  he  might  possibly  communicate  with 
her. 

This  excursive  time  was  an  awakening  for  Swithin. 
To  altered  circumstances  inevitably  followed  altered 
views.      That    such    changes    should  have    a    marked 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  265 

effect  upon  a  young  man  vvlio  had  made  neither  grand 
tour  nor  petty  one, — who  had,  in  short,  scarcely  been 
away  from  home  in  his  life, — was  nothing  more  than 
natural.  New  ideas  struggled  to  disclose  themselves; 
and  with  the  addition  of  strange  twinklers  to  his 
southern  horizon  came  an  absorbed  attention  that 
way,  and  a  corresponding  forgetfulness  of  what  lay  to 
the  north,  behind  his  back,  whether  human  or  celestial. 
Whoever  may  deplore  it,  few  will  wonder  that  Vivi- 
ette,  who  till  then  had  stood  high  in  his  heaven,  if  she 
had  not  dominated  it,  sank  lower  and  lower,  like  the 
North  Star.  Master  of  a  large  advance  of  his  first 
year's  income  in  circular  notes  and  other  forms,  he 
perhaps  too  readily  forgot  that  the  mere  act  of  honor, 
but  for  her  self-suppression,  would  have  rendered  him 
penniless. 

Meanwhile,  to  come  back  and  claim  her  at  the  speci- 
fied time,  four  years  thence,  if  she  did  not  object  to  be 
claimed,  was  as  much  a  part  of  his  programme  as 
were  the  exploits  abroad  and  elsewhere  that  were  to 
prelude  it.  The  very  thoroughness  of  his  intention 
for  that  advanced  date  inclined  him  all  the  more  to 
shelve  the  subject  now.  Her  unhappy  caution  to  him 
not  to  write  too  soon  was  a  comfortable  license  in  his 
present  state  of  tensity  about  sublime  scientific  things, 
which  knew  not  woman,  nor  her  sacrifices,  nor  her 
fears.  In  truth,  he  was  not  only  too  young  in  years, 
but  too  literal,  direct,  and  uncompromising  in  nature, 
to  understand  such  a  woman  as  Lady  Constantine  ; 
and  she  suffered  for  that  limitation  in  him,  as  was 
antecedently  probable  she  would  do. 

He  staid  but  a  little  time  at  Cape  Town,  on  this 
first,  reconnoitering  journey,  and  on  that  account 
wrote  to  no  one  from  there.  On  leaving,  he  found 
there  remained  some  weeks  on  his  hands  before  he 
wished  to  cross  to  America,  and  feeling  an  irrepressible 
desire  for  further  studies  in  navigation  under  clear 
skies,  he  took  the  steamer  for  Melbourne  ;  returning 
thence  in  due  time,  and  pursuing  his  journey  to 
America,  where  he  landed  at  Bostmi.  Having  at 
least  had  enough  of  great  circles  and   other  nautical 


2  66  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

reckonings,  and  taking  no  interest  in  men  or  cities, 
ttiis  indefatigable  scrutineer  of  the  universe  went  im- 
mediately to  Cambridge  ;  and  there,  by  the  help  of  an 
introduction  he  had  brought  from  England,  he  revel- 
ed for  a  time  in  the  glories  of  the  gigantic  refractor 
(which  he  was  permitted  to  use  on  odd  occasions), 
and  in  the  pleasures  of  intercourse  with  the  scientific 
group  around.  This  brought  him  on  to  the  time  of 
starting  with  the  transit  expedition,  when  he  and  his 
kind  became  lost  to  the  eye  of  civilization  behind  the 
horizon  of  the  Pacific  Ocean. 

To  speak  of  their  doings  on  this  pilgrimage,  of  in- 
gress and  egress,  of  tangent  and  parallax,  of  external 
and  internal  contact,  would  avail  nothing.  Is  it  not 
all  written  in  the  chronicles  of  the  Astronomical  Soci- 
ety ?  More  to  the  point  will  it  be  to  mention  that 
poor  Viviette's  telegram  and  letter  to  Cambridge  had 
been  returned  long  before  Swithin  reached  that  place, 
while  her  missives  to  Marseilles  were  of  course  mis- 
directed altogether.  On  arriving  in  America,  uncertain 
of  an  address  in  that  country  to  which  he  would  re- 
turn, Swithin  wrote  his  first  letter  to  his  grandmother; 
and  in  this  he  directed  that  all  communications  should 
be  sent  to  await  him  at  Cape  Town,  as  the  only  safe 
spot  for  finding  him  sooner  or  later.  The  equatorial 
he  also  directed  to  be  forwarded  to  the  same  place. 
At  this  time,  too,  he  ventured  to  break  Viviette's  com- 
mands, and  address  a  letter  to  her,  not  knowing  of  the 
strange  results  that  had  followed  his  absence  from 
home. 

it  was  February.  The  transit  was  over  ;  the  scien- 
tific company  had  broken  up  ;  and  Swithin  had  steam- 
ed towards  the  Cape,  to  take  up  his  permanent  abode 
there,  with  a  view  to  his  great  task  of  surveying,  chart- 
ing, and  theorizing  on  those  exceptional  features  in 
the  southern  skies  which  had  been  inadequately  treat- 
ed by  the  younger  Herschel.  Having  entered  Table 
Bay,  and  landed  on  the  quay,  he  called  at  once  at  the 
post-office. 

Two  letters  were  handed  him,  and  he  found  from 
the  date  that  they  had  been    waiting    there    for   some 


TIVO  ON  A   TO  WER.  267 

time.  One  of  these  epistles,  which  had  a  weather- 
worn look  as  regarded  the  ink,  and  was  in  old-fashion- 
ed penmanship,  he  knew  10  be  from  his  grandmother, 
and  opened  it  before  he  had  as  much  as  glanced  at  the 
superscription  of  the  second. 

Besides  immaterial  portions,  it  contained  the  follow- 
ing :— 

"I  reckon  you  know  by  now  of  our  main  news  this 
fall,  but  lest  you  should  not  have  heard  of  it  I  send 
the  exact  thing  snipped  out  of  the  newspaper.  No- 
body expected  her  to  do  it  quite  so  soon  ;  but  it  is  said 
hereabout  that  my  lord  bishop  and  my  lady  had  been 
drawing  nigh  to  an  understanding  before  the  glum 
tidings  of  Sir  Blount's  taking  of  his  own  life  reached 
her  ;  and  the  account  of  the  wicked  deed  was  so  sore 
afflicting  to  her  mind,  and  made  her  poor  heart  so 
timid  and  low,  that  in  charity  to  her  her  few  friends 
agreed  on  urging  her  to  let  the  bishop  go  on  paying 
his  court  as  before,  notwithstanding  she  had  not  been 
a  widow-woman  near  so  long  as  was  thought.  This, 
as  it  turned  out,  she  was  willing  to  do  ;  and  when  my 
lord  asked  her  she  told  him  she  would  marry  him  at 
once  or  never.  That's  as  I  was  told,  and  I  had  it 
from  those  that  know." 

The  cutting  from  the  newspaper  was  an  ordinary 
anouncement  of  marriage  between  the  Bishop  of  Mel- 
chester  and  Lady  Constantine. 

Swithin  was  so  astounded  at  the  intelligence  of 
what  for  the  nonce  seemed  Vivictte's  wanton  fickle- 
ness, that  he  quite  omitted  to  look  at  the  second 
letter,  and  remembered  nothing  about  it  till  an  hour 
afterwards,  when  sitting  in  his  room  at  the  hotel. 

It  was  in  her  handwriting,  but  so  altered  that  its 
superscription  had  not  arrested  his  eye.  It  had  no 
beginning,  or  date  ;  but  its  contents  soon  acquainted 
him  with  her  motive  for  the  precipitate  act.  The 
few  concluding  sentences  are  all  that  it  will  be  ne- 
cessary to  quote  here  : 

"  There  was  no  way  out  of  it,  even  if  I  could  have 


268  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

found  you,  without  infringing  one  of  the  conditions  I 
had  previously  laid  down.  The  long  desire  of  my 
heart  has  been  not  to  impoverish  you  cr  mar  your 
career.  The  new  desire  was  to  save  myself  and 
another.  ...  I  have  done  a  desperate  thing.  Yet  for 
myself  I  could  do  no  better,  and  for  you  no  less.  I 
would  have  sacrificed  my  single  self  to  honesty  ;  but 
I  was  not  alone  concerned.  What  woman  has  a  right 
to  blight  a  coming  life  to  preserve  her  personal  soul  ? 
.  .  .  The  one  bright  spot  is  that  it  saves  you  and  your 
endowment  from  further  catastrophes,  and  preserves 
you  to  the  pleasant  paths  of  scientific  fame.  I  no 
longer  lie  like  a  log  across  your  path,  which  is  now  as 
open  as  on  the  day  before  you  saw  me,  and  ere  I  en- 
couraged you  to  win  me.  Alas,  Swithin,  I  ought  to 
have  known  better !  The  folly  was  great,  and  the 
suffering  be  upon  my  head  !  I  have  borne  much,  and 
am  not  unprepared.  As  for  you,  Swithin,  by  simply 
pressing  straight  on,  your  triumph  is  assured.  Do 
not  communicate  with  me  in  any  way — not  even  in 
answer  to  this.  Do  not  think  of  me.  Do  not  see  me 
ever  any  miore. 

''Your  unhappy 

"  ViVIETTE." 

Swithin's  heart  swelled  within  him  in  sudden  pity 
for  her,  first  ;  then  he  blanched  with  a  horrid  sense  of 
what  she  had  done,  and  at  his  own  relations  to  the 
deed.  He  felt  like  an  awakened  somnambulist,  who 
should  find  that  he  had  been  accessory  to  a  tragedy 
during  a  period  of  unconsciousness.  She  had  loosened 
the  knot  of  her  difficulties  by  cutting  it  unscrupulously 
through  and  through. 

The  big  tidings  rather  dazed  than  crushed  him,  his 
predominant  feeling  being  soon  again  one  of  keenest 
sorrow  and  sympathy.  Yet  one  thing  was  obvious  ; 
he  could  do  nothing — absolutely  nothing.  The  event 
which  he  now  heard  of  for  the  fiist  time  had  taken 
place  five  long  months  ago.  He  reflected,  and  regret- 
ted, and  micchanically  went  on  with  his  preparations 
for  settling  down  to  work  undc  the  shadow  of  Table 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  269 

Mountain.  He  was  as  one  who  suddenly  finds  the 
world  a  stranger  place  than  he  thought  ;  but  is  ex- 
cluded by  age,  temperament,  and  situation  from  being 
much  more  than  an  astonished  spectator  of  its  strange- 
ness. 

The  Royal  Observatory  was  about  a  mile  out  of  the 
town,  and  hither  he  repaired  as  soon  as  he  had  estab- 
lished himself  in  lodgings.  He  had  decided,  on  his 
first  visit  to  the  Cape,  that  it  would  be  highly  aovan- 
tageous  to  him  if  he  could  supplement  the  occasional 
use  of  the  large  instruments  here  by  the  use  at  his 
own  house  of  his  own  equatorial,  and  had  accordingly 
given  directions  that  it  might  be  sent  over  from  Eng- 
land. The  precious  possession  now  arrived  ;  and,  al- 
though the  sight  of  it — of  the  brasses  on  which  her 
hand  had  often  rested,  of  the  eye-piece  through  which 
her  dark  eye  had  beamed — engendered  some  decided- 
ly bitter  regrets  in  him  for  a  time,  he  could  not  long 
afford  to  give  to  the  past  the  days  that  were  meant 
for  the  future. 

Unable  to  get  a  room  convenient  for  a  private  ob- 
servatory, he  resolved  at  last  to  fix  the  instrument  on 
a  solid  pillar  in  the  garden  ;  and  several  days  were 
spent  in  accommodating  it  to  its  new  position.  In  this 
latitude  there  was  no  necessity  for  economizing  clear 
nights,  as  he  had  been  obliged  to  do  on  the  old  tower 
at  Welland.  There  it  had  happened  more  than  once, 
to  his  sorrow,  that,  after  he  had  waited  idle  through 
days  and  nights  of  cloudy  weather,  poor  Viviette 
would  fix  her  time  for  meeting  him  at  an  hour  when 
at  last  he  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  the  sky  ;  so 
that  in  giving  to  her  the  golden  moments  of  cloud- 
lessness  he  was  losing  his  chance  with  the  orbs  above. 
But  here  there  was  clear  atmosphere  enough  for  both 
science  and  love,  had  an  object  for  the  latter  been 
present  with  him. 

Those  features  which  usually  attract  the  eye  of  the 
visitor  to  a  new  latitude  are  the  novel  forms  of  human 
and  vegetable  life,  and  other  such  sublunary  things. 
But  our  young  man  glanced   slightingly  at  these  ;  the 


Z^o  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

changes  overhead  had  his  attention.  The  old  subject 
was  imprinted  there,  but  in  new  type.  Here  was  a 
heaven  fixed  and  ancient  as  the  northern  ;  yet  it  had 
never  appeared  above  the  Welland  hills  since  they  were 
heaved  up  from  beneath.  Here  was  an  unalterable 
circumpolar  region  ;  but  the  polar  patterns,  stereo- 
typed in  history  and  legend,  without  which  it  had  al- 
most seemed  that  a  polar  sky  could  not  exist,  had 
never  been  seen  therein. 

St.  Cleeve,  as  was  natural,  began  by  cursory  surveys, 
which  were  not  likely  to  be  of  much  utility  to  the 
world  or  to  himself.  He  wasted  several  weeks — in- 
deed, above  two  months — in  a  comparatively  idle  sur- 
vey of  southern  novelties ;  in  the  mere  luxury  of 
looking  at  stellar  objects  whose  wonders  were  known, 
recounted,  and  classified  long  before  his  own  per- 
sonality had  been  heard  of.  With  a  child's  simple  de- 
light, he  allowed  his  instrument  to  rove  evening  after 
evening  from  the  gorgeous  glitter  of  Canopus  to  the 
hazy  clouds  of  Magellan.  Before  he  had  well  finished 
this  optical  prelude  there  floated  over  to  him  from  the 
other  side  of  the  equator  the  postscript  to  the  epistle 
of  his  poor  Viviette.  It  came  in  the  vehicle  of  a  com- 
mon newspaper,  under  the  head  of  "Births  :" 

"April  lo,  i8 — ,  at  the  Palace,  Melchester,  Lady 
Helmsdale,  of  a  son." 


CHAPTER  XLI. 


T^ 


'HREE  years  passed  away,  and  Swithin  still  re- 
mained at  the  Cape,  quietly  pursuing  the  work 
that  had  brought  him  there.  His  memoranda  of  ob- 
servations had  accumulated  to  a  wheelbarrow  load,  and 
he  was  beginning  to  shape  them  into  a  work  of  scien- 
tific utility. 

He  had  gauged  the  southern  skies  with  greater  re- 
sults than  even  he  himself   had  anticipated.      Those 


TWO  ON  A    TO  WE  J?.  271 

unfamiliar  constellations  which,  to  the  casual  be- 
holder, are  at  most  a  new  arrangement  of  ordinary 
points  of  light,  were,  to  this  professed  astronomer,  as 
to  his  brethren,  a  far  greater  matter.  It  was  below 
the  surface  that  his  material  lay.  There,  in  regions 
revealed  only  to  the  instrumental  observer,  were  suns 
of  hybrid  kind,  fire  fogs,  floating  world  pollen,  globes 
that  flew  in  groups,  like  swarms  of  bees,  and  other 
extraordinary  sights,  which,  when  decomposed  by 
Swithin's  equatorial,  turned  out  to  be  the  beginning 
of  a  new  series  of  phenomena,  instead  of  the  end  of 
an  old  one. 

There  were  gloomy  deserts  in  those  southern  skies, 
such  as  the  north  show  scarcely  an  example  of  ;  sites, 
set  apart  for  the  positions  of  suns,  which  for  some  un- 
fathomable reason  were  left  uncreated,  their  places 
remaining  conspicuous  by  their  emptiness. 

The  inspection  of  these  chasms  brought  him  a 
second  pulsation  of  that  old  horror  which  he  had 
used  to  describe  to  Viviette  as  produced  in  him  by 
bottomlessness  in  the  north  heaven.  The  ghostly  finger 
of  limitless  vacancv  touched  him  now  on  the  other 
side.  Infinite  deeps  in  the  north  stellar  region  had 
had  a  homely  familiarity  about  them  when  compared 
with  infinite  deeps  in  the  region  of  the  south  pole. 
This  was  an  even  more  unknown  tract  of  the  unknown  ; 
space  here,  being  less  the  historic  haunt  of  human 
thought  than  overhead  at  home,  seemed  pervaded  with 
a  more  lonel)'  loneliness. 

Were  there  given  on  paper  to  these  astronomical  ex- 
ercitations  of  St.  Cleeve  a  space  proportionable  to 
tliat  occupied  by  liis  year  with  Viviette  at  Wclland, 
this  narrative  would  treble  its  length  ;  but  not  a  single 
additional  glimpse  would  be  afforded  of  Swithininhis 
relations  with  old  emotions.  In  these  experiments 
with  convex  glasses,  important  as  they  were  to  ear  and 
intellect,  there  was  little  food  for  the  sympathetic  in- 
stincts which  create  the  changes  in  a  life,  and  therefore 
are  more  particularly  the  question  here.  That  which 
is  the  foreground  and  measuring  base  of  one  per- 
spective draught  may  be  the  vanishing-point  of   aq- 


272  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

other  perspective  draught,  while  yet  they  are  both 
draughts  of  the  same  thing.  Swithin's  doings  and 
discoveries  in  the  southern  sidereal  system  were,  no 
doubt,  incidents  of  the  highest  importance  to  him  ; 
and  yet,  from  our  present  point  of  view,  they  served 
but  the  humble  purpose  of  killitig  time,  while  other 
points,  more  nearly  allied  to  his  heart  than  to  his  un- 
derstanding, developed  themselves  at  home. 

In  the  intervals  between  his  professional  occupations 
he  took  walks  over  the  sand-flats  near,  or  among  the 
farms  which  were  gradually  overspreading  the  moors 
in  the  vicinity  of  Cape  Town.  He  grew  familiar  with 
the  outline  of  Table-Mountain,  and  the  fleecy  "  Devil's 
Table-Cloth,"  which  used  to  settle  on  the  top  when 
the  wind  was  south-east.  On  these  promenades  he 
would  more  particularly  think  of  Viviette,  and  of  that 
curious  pathetic  chapter  in  his  life  with  her,  which 
seemed  to  have  wound  itself  up  and  ended  forever. 
Those  scenes  were  rapidly  receding  into  distance,  and 
the  intensity  of  his  sentiment  regarding  them  had 
proportionately  abated.  He  felt  that  there  had  been 
something  wrong  in  that  period  of  his  existence,  and 
yet  he  could  not  exactly  define  the  boundary  of  the 
wrong.  Viviette's  sad  and  amazing  sequel  to  that 
chapter  had  still  a  fearful,  catastrophic  aspect  in  his 
eyes  ;  but  instead  of  musing  over  it  and  its  bearings, 
he  shunned  the  subject,  as  we  shun  by  night  the  shady 
scene  of  a  tragedy,  and  keep  to  the  open  road. 

He  sometimes  contemplated  her  apart  from  the  past, 
— leading  her  life  in  the  cathedral  close  at  Melchester  ; 
and  wondered  how  often  she  looked  south  and  thought 
of  where  he  was. 

On  one  of  these  afternoon  walks  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  the  Royal  Observatory,  he  turned  and  looked 
towards  the  signal-post  on  the  Lion's  Rump.  This 
was  a  high  promontory  to  the  northwest  of  Table 
Mountain,  which  overlooked  Table  Bay.  Before  his 
eyes  had  left  the  scene  the  signal  was  suddenly  hoisted 
on  the  staff.  This  announced  that  a  mail  steamer  had 
appeared  in  view  over  the  sea.  He  retraced  his  steps, 
as  he  had  often  done  on  such  occasions,  and  strolled 


TIVO   ON  A    TOWER. 


«75 


leisurely  across  the  intervening  mile  and  a  half,  till  he 
arrived  at  '.lie  post-office  door. 

There  was  no  letter  from  England  for  him  ;  but 
there  was  a  newspaper,  addressed  in  the  seventeenth- 
century  handwriting  of  his  grandmother,  who,  in  spite 
of  her  great  age,  still  retained  a  steady  hold  on  life. 
He  turned  away  disappointed,  and  resumed  his  walk 
into  the  country,  opening  the  paper  as  he  went  along. 

A  cross  in  black  ink  attracted  his  attention  ;  and  it 
was  opposite  a  name  among  the  deaths.  His  blood 
ran  icily  as  he  discerned  the  word  "  Helmsdale."  But 
it  was  not  she.  Her  husband,  the  Bishop  of  Mel- 
chester,  had,  after  a  short  illness,  departed  this  life  at 
the  comparatively  early  age  of  fifty  years. 

All  the  enactments  of  the  bygone  days  at  Welland 
now  started  up  like  an  awakened  army  from  the 
ground.  Only  a  few  months  were  wanting  to  the 
time  when  he  would  be  of  an  age  to  marry  Avithout 
sacrificing  the  annuity  which  formed  his  means  of 
subsistence.  It  was  a  point  in  his  life  that  had  had  no 
meaning  or  interest  for  him  since  his  separation  from 
Viviette,  for  women  were  now  no  more  to  him  than 
the  inhabitants  of  Jupiter.  However,  the  whirligig 
of  time  having  again  set  Viviette  free,  the  aspect  of 
home  altered,  and  conjecture  as  to  her  future  found 
room  to  work  anew. 

But  beyond  the  simple  fact  that  she  was  a  widow, 
he  for  some  time  gained  not  an  atom  of  intelligence 
concerning  her.  There  was  no  one  of  whom  he  could 
inquire  but  his  grandmother,  and  she  could  tell  him 
nothing  about  a  lady  who  dwelt  far  away  at  jNIel- 
chester. 

Several  months  slipped  by  thus;  and  no  feeling 
within  him  rose  to  sufficient  strength  to  force  him  out 
of  a  passive  attitude. 

Then  by  the  merest  chance,  his  granny  stated,  in 
one  of  her  rambling  epistles,  that  I^ady  Helmsdale 
was  coming  to  live  again  at  Welland,  in  the  old  house, 
with  her  child,  now  a  little  boy  between  three  and 
four  years  of  age. 

Swithin,  however,  lived  on  as  before. 


274  TU'O  OJV  J    TOWER. 

By  the  following  autumn  a  change  became  necesa^ 
ry  for  the  young  man  himself.  His  work  at  the  Cape 
was  done.  His  uncle's  wishes  that  he  should  study 
there  had  been  more  than  observed.  The  materials 
for  his  great  treatise  were  collected,  and  it  now  only 
remained  for  him  to  arrange,  digest,  and  publish 
them,  for  which  purpose  a  return  to  England  was  in- 
dispensable. 

So  the  equatorial  was  unscrewed  and  the  stand  taken 
down;  the  astronomer's  barrow-load  of  precious  mem- 
oranda, and  rolls  upon  rolls  of  diagrams,  representing 
three  years  of  continuous  labor,  were  safely  packed  ; 
and  Swithin  departed  for  good  and  all  from  the  shores 
of  Cape  Town. 

He  had  long  before  informed  his  grandmother  of 
the  date  at  which  she  might  expect  him,  and  in  a  re- 
ply from  her,  which  reached  him  just  previous  to  sail- 
ing, she  casually  mentioned  that  she  frequently  saw 
Lady  Helmsdale;  that  on  the  last  occasion  her  lady- 
ship had  shown  great  interest  in  the  information  that 
Swithin  was  coming  home,  and  had  inquired  the  time 
of  his  return. 

On  a  late  summer  day  Swithin  stepped  from  the 
train  at  Warborne,  and,  directing  his  baggage  to  be 
sent  on  after  him,  set  out  on  foot  for  old  Welland  once 
again. 

It  seemed  but  the  day  after  his  departure,  so  little 
had  the  scene  changed.  True,  there  was  that  change 
which  is  always  the  first  to  arrest  attention  in  places 
that  are  conventionally  called  unchanging — a  higher 
and  broader  vegetation  at  every  familiar  corner  than 
at  the  former  time. 

He  had  not  gone  a  mile  when  he  saw  walking  befoie 
him  a  clergyman,  whose  form,  after  consideration,  he 
recognized,  in  spite  of  a  novel  whiteness  in  that  part  of 
his  hair  that  showed  below  the  brim  of  his  hat.  Swithin 
walked  much  faster  than  this  gentleman,  and  soon  was 
at  his  side. 

"  Mr.  Torkingham — I  knew  it  was!"  said  Swithin. 
Mr.  Torkingham  was   slower  in  recognizing  the  as- 


TWO  OiV  A    TOWER.  275 

tronomer,  but  in  a  moment  had  greeted  him  with  a 
warm  shake  of  the  hand. 

"  I  have  been  to  the  station  on  purpose  to  meet  you!" 
cried  Mr.  Torkingham;  "and  was  returning  with  th& 
idea  that  you  had  not  come.  I  am  your  grandmoth- 
er's emissary.  She  could  not  come  herself,  and  as  she 
was  anxious,  and  nobody  else  could  be  spared,  I  came 
for  her." 

Then  they  walked  on  together.  The  parson  told 
Swithin  all  about  his  grandmother,  the  parish,  and  his 
endeavors  to  enlighten  it  ;  and  in  due  course:  "  You 
are  no  doubt  aware  that  Lady  Helmsdale  —  the 
Lady  Constantine  of  former  days — is  living  again  at 
Welland." 

Swithin  said  he  had  heard  as  much,  and  added, 
what  was  perfectly  true,  that  the  news  of  the  bishop's 
death  had  been  a  great  surprise  to  him. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Torkingham,  with  nine  thoughts  to 
one  word;  "one  might  have  prophesied,  to  look  at 
him,  that  Melchester  would  not  lack  a  bishop  for  the 
next  forty  years.  Yes;  pale  death  knocks  at  the  cot- 
tages of  the  poor  and  the  palaces  of  kings  with  an 
impartial  foot." 

"  Was  he  a — particularl}*  good  man?"  asked  Swithin. 

"  He  was  not  a  Ken,  or  S.  Heber.  To  speak  candid- 
ly, he  had  his  faults,  of  which  arrogance  was  not  the 
least.     But  who  is  perfect?" 

Swithin,  somehow,  felt  relieved  to  hear  that  the 
bishop  was  not  a  perfect  man. 

"  His  poor  wife,  I  fear,  had  not  a  great  deal  more 
happiness  with  him  than  with  her  first  husband.  But 
one  might  almost  have  foreseen  it;  the  marriage  was 
hasty — the  result  of  a  red-hot  caprice,  hardly  becom- 
ing to  a  man  in  his  position;  and  it  betokened  a  want 
ot  temperate  discretion  which  soon  showed  itself  in 
other  ways.  That's  all  there  was  to  be  said  against 
him;  and  now  it's  all  over,  and  things  have  settled 
again  into  their  old  course.  But  Lad)'  Helmsdale  is 
not  Lady  Constantine.  No;  put  it  as  you  will,  she  is 
not  the  same.  There  seems  to  be  a  nameless  some- 
thing  on    her   mind,  a   trouble,  a  rooted   melancholy, 


276  TWO  ON  A    TOWER. 

which  no  man's  ministry  can  reach.  Formerly  she 
was  a  woman  whose  confidence  it  was  easy  to  gain; 
but  neither  religion  nor  philosophy  avails  with  her 
now.  Beyond  that,  her  life  is  strangely  like  what  it 
was  when  you  were  with  us." 

Conversing  thus  they  pursued  the  turnpike  road, 
till  their  conversation  was  interrupted  by  a  crying 
voice  on  their  left.  They  looked,  and  perceived  that 
a  child,  in  getting  over  an  adjoining  stile,  had  fallen 
on  his  face. 

Mr.  Torkingham  and  Swithin  both  hastened  up  to 
help  the  sufferer,  who  was  a  lovely  little  fellow  with 
flaxen  hair,  which  spread  out  in  a  frill  of  curls  from 
beneath  a  quaint,  close-fitting  velvet  cap  that  he  wore. 
Swithin  picked  him  up,  while  Mr.  Torkingham  wiped 
the  sand  from  his  lips  and  nose,  and  administered  a 
few  words  of  consolation,  together  with  a  few  sweet- 
meats, which,  somewhat  to  Swithin's  surprise,  the  par- 
son produced  as  if  by  magic  from  his  pocket.  One 
half  the  comfort  rendered  would  have  sufficed  to 
soothe  such  a  disposition  as  the  child's;  he  ceased  cry- 
ing, and  ran  away  in  delight  to  his  unconscious  nurse, 
who  was  reaching  up  for  blackberries  at  a  hedge  some 
way  ofl^. 

"  You  know  who  he  is,  of  course?"  said  Mr.  Torking- 
ham, as  they  resumed  their  journey. 

"No,"  said  Swithin. 

"  Oh,  I  thought  you  did.  Yet  how  should  you?  It 
is  Lady  Helmsdale's  boy,  her  only  child.  His  fond 
mother  little  thinks  he  is  so  faraway  from  home." 

"  Dear  me — Lady  Helmsdale's — ah — how  interest- 
ing!" Swithin  paused  abstractedly  for  a  moment;  then 
stepped  back  again  to  the  stile,  where  he  stood  watch- 
ing the  little  boy  out  of  sight. 

"  I  can  never  venture  out-of-doors  now  without 
sweets  in  my  pocket,"  continued  the  good-natured  vic- 
ar; "and  the  result  is  that  I  meet  that  young  man 
more  frequently  than  any  other  of  my  parishioners." 

St.  Cleeve  was  silent,  and  they  turned  into  Welland 
Lane,  where  their  paths  presently  diverged,  and  Swith- 
in was  left  to  pursue  his  way  alone.     He  might  hav© 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  277 

accompanied  the  vicar  yet  further,  and  gone  straight 
to  Welland  House;  but  it  would  have  been  difficult  to 
do  so  then  without  provoking  inquiry.  It  was  easy  to 
go  there  now;  by  a  cross-path  he  could  be  at  the  man- 
sion almost  as  soon  as  by  the  direct  road.  And  yet 
Swithin  did  not  turn;  he  felt  an  indescribable  reluct- 
ance to  see  Viviette.  He  could  not  exactly  say  why. 
Moreover,  before  he  knew  how  the  land  lay,  it  might 
be  awkward  to  attempt  to  call  ;  and  this  was  a  suffi- 
cient excuse  for  postponement. 

In  this  mood  he  went  on,  following  the  direct  way 
to  his  grandm.other's  homestead.  He  reached  the 
garden  gate,  and,  looking  into  the  bosky  basin  in  which 
the  old  house  stood,  saw  a  graceful  female  form  mov- 
ing before  the  porch,  bidding  adieu  to  someone  within 
the  door. 

He  wondered  what  creature  of  that  mold  his  grand- 
mother could  know,  and  went  forward  with  some 
hesitation.  At  his  approach  the  apparition  turned, 
and  he  beheld,  developed  into  blushing  womanhood, 
one  who  had  once  been  known  to  him  as  the  village 
maiden,  Tabitha  Lark.  Seeing  Swithin,  and  appar- 
ently from  an  instinct  that  her  presence  would  not  be 
desirable  just  then,  she  moved  quickly  round  into  the 
garden. 

The  returned  astronomer  entered  the  house,  where 
he  found  awaiting  him  poor  old  Mrs.  Martin,  to  whose 
earthly  course  death  stood  rather  as  the  asymptote 
than  as  the  end.  She  was  perceptibly  smaller  in  form 
than  when  he  had  left  her,  and  she  could  see  less  dis- 
tinctly. A  rather  affecting  greeting  followed,  in  which 
his  grandmother  murmured  the  words  of  Israel: 
"  Now  let  me  die,  since  I  have  seen  thy  face,  because 
thou  art  yet  alive." 

The  form  of  Hannah  had  disappeared  from  the 
kitchen,  that  ancient  servant  having  been  gathered  to 
her  fathers  about  six  months  before,  her  place  being 
filled  by  a  young  girl,  who  knew  not  Joseph. 

They  presently  chatted  with  much  cheerfulness,  and 
his  grandmother  said:  "  Have  yon  heard  what  a  won- 
derful   young  woman    Miss    Lark    has    become  ? — a 


278  TWO  ON  A    TOWEK. 

mere  fleet-footed,  slittering  maid  when  you  were  last 
home." 

St.  Cleeve  had  not  heard,  but  he  had  partly  seen, 
and  he  was  informed  that  Tabitha  had  left  Welland 
shortly  after  his  own  departure,  and  had  studied  mu- 
sic with  great  success  in  London,  where  she  had  re- 
sided ever  since  till  quite  recently;  that  she  played  at 
concerts,  at  oratorios;  that  she  had,  in  short,  joined 
the  phalanx  of  wonderful  women  who  have  sternly  re- 
solved to  eclipse  masculine  genius  altogether,  and  hu- 
miliate the  brutal  sex  to  the  dust. 

"  She  is  only  in  the  garden,"  added  his  grand- 
mother.    "  Why  don't  ye  go  out  and  speak  to  her.?" 

Svvithin  was  nothing  loth,  and  strolled  out  under 
the  apple-trees,  where  he  arrived  just  in  time  to  pre- 
vent, Miss  Lark  from  going  off  by  the  back  gate. 
There  was  not  much  difficulty  in  breaking  ice  between 
them,  and  they  began  to  chat  with  vivacity. 

Now  all  these  proceedings  occupied  time,  for  some- 
how it  was  very  charming  to  talk  to  Miss  Lark;  and 
by  degrees  St.  Cleeve  told  Tabitha  of  his  great  under- 
taking, and  of  the  voluminous  notes  he  had  amassed 
which  would  require  so  much  rearrangement  and  re- 
copying  by  an  amanuensis  as  to  absolutely  appall 
him.  He  greatly  feared  he  should  not  get  one  care- 
ful enough  for  such  scientiffic  matter — whereupon 
Tabitha  said  she  would  be  delighted  to  do  it  for  him. 
Then,  blushing,  and  declaring  suddenly  that  it  had 
grown  quite  late,  she  left  him  and  the  garden  for  her 
relation's  house  hard  by. 

Swithin,  no  less  than  Tabitha,  had  been  surprised  by 
the  disappearance  of  the  sun  behind  the  hill  ;  and  the 
question  now  arose  whether  it  would  be  advisable  to 
call  upon  Viviette  that  night.  There  was  little  doubt 
that  she  knew  of  his  coming,  but  more  than  that  he 
could  not  predicate  ;  and  being  entirely  ignorant  of 
whom  she  had  around  her,  entirely  in  the  dark  as  to 
her  present  feelings  towards  him,  he  thought  it  would 
be  better  to  defer  his  visit  until  the  next  day. 

Walking  round  the  front  of  the  house,  he  beheld  the 
well-known  agriculturists,  Hezzy  Biles,  Haymoss  Fry, 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  279 

and  some  others  of  the  same  old  school,  passing  the 
garden  gate  homeward  from  their  work,  and  bundles 
of  wood  upon  their  backs.  Swithin  saluted  them  over 
the  top-rail. 

"  Well  !  do  my  eyes  and  ears  " — began  Hezzy  ;  and 
then,  with  a  smile  almost  as  wide  as  the  gate,  balanc- 
ing his  fagot  on  end  against  the  hedge,  he  came  for- 
ward, the  others  following. 

"  Says  I  to  myself,  as  soon  as  I  heerd  his  voice," 
Hezzy  continued  (addressing  Swithin  as  if  he  were  a 
disinterested  spectator,  and  not  to  himself),  "  please 
God  I'll  pitch  my  nitch,  and  go  across  and  speak  to 
en." 

"  I  knowed  in  a  winking  'twas  some  great  navigator 
that  I  see  a  standing  there,"  said  Haymoss.  "  But 
whe'r  'twere  a  sort  of  nabob,  or  a  diment-digger,  or  a 
lion-hunter,  I  couldn't  so  much  as  guess  till  I  heerd  en 
spak." 

"  And  what  changes  have  come  over  Welland  since 
I  was  last  at  home  ?"  asked  Swithin. 

"Well,  Mr.  San  Cleeve,"  Hezzy  replied,  "when 
you've  said  that  a  few  stripling  boys  and  maidens  have 
busted  into  blooth,  and  a  few  married  women  have 
plimmed  and  chimped  (my  lady  among  'em),  wliy, 
you've  said  anighst  all,  Mr.  San  Cleeve." 

The  conversation  thus  begun  was  continued  on 
divers  matters,  till  they  were  all  enveloped  in  total 
darkness,  when  his  old  acquaintances  shouldered  their 
fagots  again  and  proceeded  on  their  way. 

Now  that  he  was  actually  within  her  coasts  again, 
Swithin  felt  a  little  more  strongly  the  influence  of  the 
past  and  Viviette  than  he  had  been  accustomed  to  do 
for  the  last  two  or  three  years.  During  the  night  he 
felt  half  sorry  that  he  had  not  marched  off  to  the  great 
house  to  see  her,  regardless  of  the  time  of  day.  If  she 
really  nourished  for  him  any  particle  of  her  affection, 
it  had  been  the  cruellest  thing  not  to  call.  A  few 
questions  that  he  had  put  concerning  her  to  his  grand- 
mother elicited  that  Lady  Helmsdale  had  no  friends 
about  her,  not  even  her  brother,  and  that  her  health 
nad  not  been  so  good  since  her  return  from  Melchester 


28o  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

as  formerly.  Still,  this  proved  nothing  as  to  the  state 
of  her  heart ;  and  as  she  had  kept  a  dead  silence  since 
the  bishop's  death,  it  was  quite  posssible  that  she 
would  meet  him  with  that  cold,  repressive  tone  and 
manner  which  experienced  women  know  so  well  how 
to  put  on  when  they  wish  to  intimate  to  the  long-lost 
lover  that  old  episodes  are  to  be  taken  as  forgotten. 

The  next  morning  he  prepared  to  call,  if  only  on  the 
ground  of  old  acquaintance ;  for  Swithin  was  too 
straightforward  to  do  anything  indirectly.  It  was  rather 
too  early  for  this  purpose  when  he  went  out  from  his 
grandmother's  garden  gate,  after  breakfast,  and  wait- 
ed in  the  garden.  While  he  lingered  his  eye  fell  on 
the  Rings-Hill  Speer.  It  appeared  dark  for  a  moment, 
against  the  blue  sky  behind  it  ;  then  the  fleeting  cloud 
which  shadowed  it  passed  on,  and  the  face  of  the 
column  brightened  into  such  luminousness  that  the 
sky  behind  sunk  to  the  complexion  of  a  dark  foil. 

"  Surely  somebody  is  on  the  column,"  he  said  to 
himself,   after  gazing  at  it  for  a  while. 

Instead  of  going  straight  to  the  great  house  he  de- 
viated through  the  insulating  field,  now  sown  to  turnips, 
which  surrounded  the  plantation  on  Rings-Hill.  By 
the  time  that  he  plunged  under  the  trees  he  was  still 
more  certain  that  somebody  was  on  the  tower.  He 
crept  up  to  the  base  with  proprietary  curiosity,  for  the 
spot  seemed  again  like  his  own. 

The  path  still  remained  much  as  formerly,  but  the 
nook  in  which  the  cabin  had  stood  was  covered  with 
undergrowth.  Swithin  entered  the  door  of  the  tower, 
ascended  the  staircase  about  half-w^y  on  tip-toe,  and 
listened  for  he  did  not  wish  to  intrude  on  the  top,  if  any 
stranger  were  there.  The  hollow  spiral,  as  he  knew 
from  old  experience,  would  bring  down  to  his  ears  the 
slightest  sound  from  above  ;  and  it  now  revealed  to 
him  the  words  of  a  dialogue  in  progress  at  the  summit 
of  the  tower. 

"  Mother,  what  shall  I  do  ?"  a  child's  voice  said. 
"Shall  I  sing.?" 

The  mother  seemed  to  assent,  for  the  child  be* 
gan  : 


TWO  ON  A    TOWER.  281 

"  The  robin  has  fled  from  the  \vcx>d 
To  the  snug  habitation  of  man." 

This  performance  apparently  attracted  but  little 
attention  from  the  child's  companion,  for  the  young 
voice  suggested,  as  a  new  form  of  entertainment: 
'  Shall  I  say  my  prayers?" 

"Yes,"  replied  one  whom  Swithin  had  begun  to  re- 
cognize. 

"Who  shall  I  pray  for?" 

No  answer. 

"  Who  shall  pray  for  ?" 

"  Pray  for  father." 

"  But  he  IS  gone  to  Heaven." 

A  sigh  from  Viviette  was  distinctly  audible. 

"You  made  a  mistake,  didn't  you  ?"  continued  the 
little  one. 

"I  must  have — the  strangest  mistake  a  woman  ever 
made!" 

Nothing  more  was  said,  and  Swithin  ascended, 
words  from  above  indicating  that  his  footsteps  were 
heard.  In  another  half  minute  he  rose  through  the 
hatchway.  A  lady  in  black  was  sitting  in  the  sun, 
and  the  boy  with  the  golden  hair  whom  he  had  seen 
yesterday  was  at  her  feet. 

"  Viviette!"  he  said, 

"  Swithin  ! — at  last !"  she  cried. 

The  words  died  upon  her  lips,  and  from  very  faint- 
ness  she  bent  her  head.  For  instead  of  rushing  for- 
ward to  her  he  stood  still ;  and  there  appeared  upon 
his  face  a  look  which   there  was  no  mistaking. 

Yes  ;  he  was  shocked  at  her  worn  and  faded  aspect. 
The  image  which  he  had  mentally  carried  out  with 
him  to  the  Cape  he  had  brought  home  again  as  that 
of  the  woman  he  was  now  to  rejoin.  But  another  wo- 
man sat  before  him,  and  not  the  orginal  Viviette. 
Her  cheeks  had  lost  for  ever  that  firm  contour  which 
had  been  drawn  by  the  vigorous  hand  of  youth,  and 
the  masses  of  hair  that  were  once  darkness  visible  had 
become  touched  here  and  there  by  a  faint  gray  haze, 
like  the  Via  Lactea  in  a  midnight  sky. 


tS2  TIVO  ON  A   TOPVEJi. 

Yet  to  those  who  had  eyes  to  understand,  as  well  as 
to  see,  the  chastened  sweetness  of  her  once  handsome 
features  revealed  more  promising  material  beneath 
than  ever  her  youth  had  done.  But  Swithin  was  hope- 
lessly her  junior.  Unhappily  for  her,  he  had  now  just 
arrived  at  an  age  whose  canon  of  faith  it  is  that  the 
silly  period  of  won^an's  life  is  her  only  period  of 
beauty.  Viviette  saw  it  all,  and  knew  that  time  had 
at  last  brought  about  his  revenge.  She  had  trembling- 
ly watched  and  waited,  without  sleep,  ever  since 
Swithin  had  re-entered  Welland  ;  and  it  was  for 
this. 

Swithin  came  forward,  and  took  her  by  the  hand, 
which  she  passively  allowed  him  to  do. 

"Swithin,    you  don't  love  me,"  she  said,  simply. 

"  Oh,  Viviette  !" 

"  You  don't  love  me,"  she  repeated. 

"  Don't  say  it  !" 

"Yes,  but  I  will !  You  have  a  right  not  to  love  me. 
You  did  once.  But  now  I  am  an  old  woman,  and  you 
are  still  a  young  man  ;  so  how  can  you  love  me  ?  I  do 
not  expect  it.  It  is  kind  and  charitable  of  you  to 
come  and  see  me  here." 

"  I  have  come  all  the  way  from  the  Cape,"  he  falter- 
ed ;  for  her  insistence  took  all  power  out  of  him  to 
deny,  in  mere  politeness,  what  she  said. 

"  Yes,  you  have  come  from  the  Cape  ;  but  not  for 
me,"  she  answered.  "It  would  be  absurd  if  you  had 
come  for  me.     You   have   come    because    your   work 

there  is  finished I   like  to  sit  here  with   my 

little  boy  ;  it  is  a  pleasant  spot.  It  was  once  some- 
thing to  us,  was  it  not  ?  But  that  was  long  ago.  You 
scarcely  knew  me  for  the  same  woman,  did  you  ?" 

"  Knew  you  ?     Yes,  of  course  I  knew  you  !" 

"You  looked  as  if  you  did  not.  But  you  must  not 
be  surprised  at  me.  I  belong  to  an  earlier  generation 
than  you  remember." 

Thus,  in  sheer  bitterness  of  spirit  did  she  inflict 
wounds  on  herself  by  exaggerating  the  difference  in 
their  years.  But  she  had,  nevertheless,  spoken  truly. 
Sympathize  with  her   as   he    might,    and    as    he    un- 


TIVO  OA'  A    TOWER.  283 

questionably  did,  he  loved  her  no  longer.  But  why 
had  she  expected  otherwise  ?  O  woman,  might  a 
prophet  have  said  to  her,  great  is  thy  faith  if  thou  be- 
lievest  a  junior  lover's  love  will  last  live  years  ? 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  know  through  your  grand- 
mother how  you  are  getting  on,"  she  said,  meekly. 
"  But  now — I  would  much  rather  that  we  part.  Yes  ; 
do  not  question  me.  I  would  rather  that  we  part. 
Good-by  !" 

Hardly  knowing  what  he  did,  he  touched  her  hand, 
and  obeyed.  He  was  a  scientist,  and  took  words 
literally.  There  is  something  in  the  inexorably 
simple  logic  of  such  men  which  partakes  of  the 
cruelty  of  the  natural  laws  that  are  their  study.  He 
entered  the  tower  and  mechanically  descended  the 
steps  ;  and  it  was  not  till  he  got  half-way  down  that 
he  thought  she  could  not  mean  what  she  had  said. 

Before  leaving  Cape  Town  he  had  made  up  his  mind 
on  this  one  point :  that  if  she  were  willing  to  marry 
him,  marry  her  he  would,  without  let  or  hindrance. 
That  much  he  morally  owed  her,  and  he  was  not  the 
man  to  demur.  And  though  the  Swithin  who  had  re- 
turned was  not  quite  the  Swithin  who  had  gone  away, 
though  he  could  not  now  love  her  with  the  sort  of  love 
he  had  once  bestowed,  he  believed  that  all  her  con- 
duct had  been  dictated  by  the  purest  benevolence  to 
him  ;  by  that  charity  which  "  seeketh  not  her  own." 
Hence  he  did  not  flinch  from  a  wish  to  deal  with 
loving  kindness  towards  her, — a  sentiment,  perhaps, 
in  the  long  run,  more  to  be  prized  than  lover's 
love. 

Her  manner  had  caught  him  unawares  ;  but  now, 
recovering  himself,  he  turned  back  determinedly. 
Bursting  out  upon  the  roof,  he  clasped  her  in  his  arms, 
and  kissed  her  several  times. 

"  Viviette,  Viviette,"  he  said,  "  I  have  come  to  marry 
you  !" 

She  uttered  a  shriek, — a  shriek  of  amazed  joy, — 
such  as  never  was  heard  on  that  tower  before  or  since, 
and  fell  in  his  arms,  clasping  his  neck. 

There  she  lav  heavilv.     Not  to  disturb  her  he  sat 


a 84  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

down  in  her  seat,  still  holding  her  fast.  The  little  boy, 
who  had  stood  with  round  conjectural  eyes  through- 
out the  meeting,  now  came  close  ;  and  presently,  look- 
ing up  to  Swithin,  said:  "  Mother  has  gone  to  sleep." 

Swithin  looked  down  and  started.  Her  tight  clasp 
loosened.  A  wave  of  whiteness,  like  that  of  marble 
which  has  never  seen  the  sun,  crept  up  from  her 
neck,  and  traveled  upwards  and  onwards  over  her 
cheek,  lips,  eyelids,  forehead,  temples  ;  its  margin 
banishing  back  the  live  pink  till  the  latter  had  entirely 
disappeared. 

The  little  boy  began  to  cry,  but  in  his  concentra- 
tion Swithin  hardly  heard  it.  "  Viviette,  Viviette  !" 
he  said. 

The  child  cried  with  still  deeper  grief,  and  pushed 
his  hand  into  Swithin's  for  protection.  "Hush, 
hush,  my  child  !"  said  Swithin,  distractedly.  "  I'll  take 
care  of  you.  Oh,  Viviette  !"  he  exclaimed,  again, 
pressing  her  face  to  his.  But  she  did  not  reply. 
"  Whatcan  this  be  ?"  he  asked  himself.  He  would  not 
then  answer  according  to  his  fear. 

But  he  had  to  do  so  soon.  Sudden  joy  after  despair 
had  touched  an  overstrained  heart  too  smartly.  Vivi- 
ette was  dead.     The  bishop  was  avenged. 

[the  end.] 


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